HTLJ: Mad About You
by Arianna18
Summary: A beautiful young woman's obsession with Hercules spells trouble for Iolaus


Dedication: _I want to thank Pythia for this story...she generously gave me the story concept and then provided considerable input to the development of the storyline, including researching the poison and its symptomatology, she held the pen for several important passages, and the title is hers. It would not have been written without her imagination, creativity and outstanding editorial advice and guidance. This story is hers, as much as it is mine. _

Prologue:

Hercules brushed back Iolaus' hair from his flushed face, and listened to the labored breathing. He frowned, thinking back, realizing he should have noticed sooner what was happening...but, even though Iolaus had warned him, had told him to deal with it, Iolaus had made no secret that he had thought it was all hilarious...and Hercules, himself, had just been embarrassed. Gods...and now...if this cost Iolaus his life, Hercules would never forgive himself....

* * *

One week before....

"Hey Herc!" called Iolaus, jogging over to join his friend, who was in the middle of a conversation with one of the priests from Zeus' temple. Hercules, hearing Iolaus, held up a hand, to pause the priest's seemingly endless listing of grievances, worries, minor anxieties and requirements for guidance and decisions, and turned to greet his friend.

"Iolaus...where have you been?" enquired Hercules, with just a touch of exasperation. There were a thousand things to do in the next couple of days, and he needed Iolaus' help.

"Sorry...I was checking out the set up of booths and stalls just outside the gates. There're hundreds of merchants and craftsmen all trying to find space....had to mediate amongst some of them before they came to blows. Why? What's happening here?" Iolaus replied mildly. He could tell Hercules was pressed to the limit of his patience and was determined not to add to his friend's aggravation. Gods, these Games were a great idea, but the details! And, Herc, hero that he was, really didn't enjoy a whole lot of administrativia. They'd been here a week now, and Herc had long ago reached the end of his patience.

"Oh...good, thanks. Well," Hercules sighed, "what's happening here is chaos!" He waved again at the priest at his side, who had continued to expostulate about the need to decide RIGHT NOW about the opening ceremonies, most specifically, the lighting of the torch, how many priestesses would be needed, who should light the eternal flame, where, exactly, was the right place for the sacrifice of the pure white bull, which had been especially raised, just for these Games....

Iolaus chuckled, listening to the litany, and seeing the slightly harried look in Herc's eyes. "Let me help," he offered.

Hercules sighed, "Just what I was hoping you'd say...."

Iolaus moved to address the priest, "Look, Talimedes, it doesn't really matter how many priestesses are in the ceremony to light the torch...but, seven is always a lucky number. What matters is that they should be wearing white, except for the chief priestess, who should be in green, to symbolize nature and strength. The ceremony needs to held at midday, when the sun is at its highest and hottest, so that there won't be any trouble getting the kindling to light from Apollo's hand...and, it should be Hercules who lights the eternal flame." Iolaus laid a hand on Hercules' arm, anticipating his friend's objection.

And, object he did. "Iolaus, I'm not sure I should light the flame...."

"Of course you should, Hercules," Iolaus returned firmly, using his friend's full name to signal that he was very serious about this, and that arguing about it was futile. "You started these Games eight years ago... and, now they are becoming a tradition which, with luck, may last for thousands of years. This is the lighting of the eternal flame, which is to burn in the new Temple to Zeus forever. You're his son...who else is better suited to carry out this _duty_?" Iolaus emphasized the word 'duty' knowing that Herc would never shrug off a responsibility.

"Well, I...." Herc began, only to be cut off by the priest, "That makes perfect sense...I'll make the arrangements. Now, about the sacrifice...."

Iolaus made a face at that. For the life of him, he could never understand why priests always thought they had to sacrifice some poor beast to placate the gods. If Zeus was hungry, he was more than capable of finding and killing his own bull...and besides, everyone knew the gods didn't actually need to eat. The only good thing about this was that the athletes got to partake of the animal's meat, once it was duly butchered, seasoned and slowly cooked over the open flames at the far end of the stadium. While he preferred roast wild boar, roast bull wasn't bad. When the priest opened his mouth, to repeat his question, Iolaus cut in, "The best place for the sacrifice is in the centre of the stadium, where everyone will be able to see it clearly. You'll want to do it after the athletes have marched in, and the flame has been lit."

Satisfied for the moment, the priest turned to head back into the new Temple which loomed above them. Gods, it was magnificent, Iolaus thought, as he gazed at it. Larger than any other temple in Greece, thick rounded and sculpted pillars rose to support a roof trimmed with gold and brightly painted frescoes. There were fifteen pillars to each side, with sculptures of the gods, and of heroes, spaced between. Inside, was a breathtaking statue of Zeus, seated as if on his throne. The statue, standing higher than five men, was brilliantly fashioned from marble. Men said this Temple was a wonder of the world...and Iolaus had no doubt it was true. Certainly, in all his travels, he'd not seen anything quite like it.

The fact that he thought the building of temples and statues to the gods was a waste of time and labour didn't dim his appreciation of the engineering, craftsmanship and artistry which had gone into its making. He heard Hercules sigh again, and turned back to see his friend running a hand through his hair. Grinning up at Hercules, he offered, "So, what can I do next, oh Master of the Games?"

Hercules snorted, "Thanks for sorting that out...it amazes me how people can care about such mundane details...and not be able to make their own decisions! What else?" he sighed, gazing abstractedly around the sanctuary area, "Well, would you mind setting out the archery field in the centre of the stadium?"

Iolaus smiled, slapped his friend on the back, turned, and headed toward the stadium, calling over his shoulder, "I'm on it! Oh, and Herc," he added, turning and walking backwards, "you might want to take a bit of a break and get some lunch....Aristos has set up a stall and he and his stepdaughter are open for business!" Then, he turned and loped to the stadium entrance.

Hercules couldn't repress a grin as he watched Iolaus jog across the busy grounds, weaving nimbly around the hundreds of men milling about the area. Trust Iolaus to suggest food as a way of calming down! But, he was right. It was well after midday, and Hercules hadn't eaten since dawn. Turning, he skirted around the diminutive round temple to Apollo, keeping his eyes forward, so as not to have to look at the imposing temple to Hera just beyond Apollo's shrine, and wove his way through the crowds, past the training hall to climb the hill to the entrance to sanctuary compound. As he went by the training hall, he could see, through the pillared portico, the wrestlers working out, and above him, he could hear the runners sprinting as they rounded the training track on the top of the building...four times around the training track was exactly the same distance as the track in the stadium. He could scarcely believe what had happened to the open, peaceful meadow he had used for the first Games, which he'd really only suggested to prevent an unnecessary war. Gods, it was a madhouse!

As he exited the gates, Hercules noted again the differences between the two sectors. Inside the sanctuary area and stadium, only men were permitted...and, for the most part, the men were nude, because they competed as nature made them. Outside, the crowd was mixed. Women were gaily decked out in their festival finest, laughing and calling to one another as they moved from stall to stall, examining the treasures on display...gold and silver, finely woven cloth dyed all the colours of the rainbow, ceramics and pottery finely wrought into bowls, pitchers, amphora, cups, and goblets, intoxicating scents from spices brought from the east, leather work, brightly coloured silk scarves and shawls, beautifully crafted knives and swords, belts, gauntlets, trinkets, saddles...whatever anyone could ever think to want or buy was there to be had. Children darted through the crowd, shrilly shrieking with excitement and delight, and men... priests, warriors, athletes, royalty, merchants, craftsmen, farmers...gods, it looked like half of Greece was here. And, of course, Herc thought with a slight frown as he watched the crowd, there would be the requisite number of cutpurses, petty thieves and priestesses from every temple to Aphrodite in a hundred mile radius.

A small, but thriving town had been created overnight on the edge of the forest on the hills surrounding Olympia. Hercules sighed, remembering the windswept, open beauty of this area eight years ago, its peace and tranquility. He'd liked it better when he could hear the birds calling to one another, and the wind soughing gently through the trees. Now, he wondered if that sense of peace, of sanctuary, would ever return to this place.

Finally, he came to the tent housing Aristos' makeshift tavern. There were tables and stools scattered inside and out, most occupied by hungry and thirsty travelers. Winding his way through the press of people, he made his way to the bar...a long trestle table supported high on outsize barrels. Leaning on one end, Herc waited until he could catch Aristos' eye. However, his friend's stepdaughter spotted him first, and angled directly to him, absentmindedly placing mugs of ale in front of customers who had not yet ordered them.

_'Oh Gods, he's here! Finally here!' she thought, as soon as she saw Hercules, and her body fairly quivered with her excitement and barely suppressed desire. Gods, she had dreamed about him for so long...so many long, lonely nights, replaying every moment of time he had spent with her over the past five years. Could it only be five years ago when he'd first walked into her life...tall, strong, kind and caring...so gentle, and yet so dangerous to those who opposed him. _

_He'd been so wonderful to come when he'd heard her mother was sick, to give support to her, when he'd not even known her. She'd known, almost from the first time she'd seen him, that the Fates had destined them to be together. He'd spent so much time with her, comforting her, his eyes full of compassion and love, his touch so gentle when he'd brushed away her tears, his arms so strong when he held her, letting her know she was safe, that he cared about her. 'Don't be afraid, you'll never be alone. I'll always be here when you need me, 'Tica. I promise, I won't let any harm come to you....' he'd said, when she'd been seemed inconsolable when her mother had died, afraid of the future, afraid to be left with her stepfather, a man she hardly knew. And, Hercules had come back over the years, again and again, to make sure she was alright, to prove his continued concern and love for her. _

_It didn't matter that he had made the promises to a child...he'd kept them as she'd grown. And, she was a woman now, ready to go with him, make a life with him...be together forever, just as they were always meant to be. He'd never forget his promises to the child she had been, she knew that...but, now, he'd soon realize she was no longer a child. Hercules would see she had become a woman, the woman he'd always known she'd become, the woman he had waited for all these years. He didn't yet know that she loved him as he had always loved her...'Tica trembled with eager anticipation of that moment soon to come, when she'd reassure him, reveal her love...and then he would be hers, the way the Fates had always intended... and nothing, no one, would ever come between them again. Nothing. _

Herc saw 'Tica coming toward him and found a smile for her. She was a pretty and pert young thing, spoiled, true, but that was only to be expected. When his wife had died, Aristos had lavished all of his affection upon his stepdaughter, trying to make up for her loss, promising himself he would always do everything he could be make sure she felt safe and loved. She meant no harm. And, kindly, she always seemed glad to see him, always went out of her way to make him welcome.

"Hercules!" she cried, turning any number of heads in the small, confined area. Herc blushed a bit, uncomfortable with the attention. "Welcome! It's so wonderful to see you!" she continued, leaning over the bar and placing a friendly hand over his. Her dancing green eyes laughed up into his, and she batted lush lashes artfully. He couldn't help but grin back at her. And, truth be told, she wasn't hard to look at...wild blond hair curled back from her face, and half way down her back, warm full lips curled over pearly perfect teeth, and a light blush enhanced her fair colouring.

"Hello, 'Tica. It's good to see you again, too. You and your dad have quite a set up here...and lots of business! When you have a spare moment," he continued, looking at the press of customers, "I'll have an ale and some fruit...whatever you have."

"Is that all?" she pouted prettily, before arching a brow and smiling knowingly. "You know, I'd be glad to give you...anything...you'd want...on the house."

Herc blushed again, unable to completely miss the invitation in her voice. "Uh, no...the ale and the fruit will be fine, for now....thanks," he reaffirmed, again with a slow smile, to soften the indirect rejection. No doubt about it, Aristos' little girl was all grown up. He sighed a little, when she turned away with a flounce...didn't she know she was way too young for him, even if he was interested, which he wasn't. Ah well, no harm in a little flirting...she could practice on him...he didn't mind.

She was back in moments, with a brimming mug of cool ale and a platter of mixed fruit, apples, oranges, grapes, melon, all cut into appetizing wedges, graced with a hunk of white cheese and a couple of soft rolls, fresh from their ovens. "Here you go, Hero!" she said cheerfully, laying it before him. She lingered a moment, again resting her fingers lightly over his, stroking his hand as if absentmindedly thinking of something else. Gazing up into his eyes, she asked, "Where are you staying, Hercules? Father and I have set up a large tent out back, a kind of portable inn...you'd be welcome to stay...."

"Thanks, 'Tica," Hercules responded as he gently withdrew his hand to pick up a slice of apple, "but, Iolaus and I have already made arrangements down in the sanctuary area." Looking down at the plate of fruit, he missed the dark flash in her eyes at the mention of his partner's name. "This looks great...thank you..." he said with a smile, as he bit into the wedge of apple.

"Ah, well, 'tis a pleasure to serve you, Hercules. You must promise to take all your meals here during the festival...Father would be sad to think you'd go elsewhere...and I, well, I would be utterly devastated," she responded with a teasing light in her eyes.

Chewing, swallowing, Hercules nodded. "Sure, absolutely. Iolaus and I have always very much enjoyed the hospitality you and your father offer....consider us regulars!" She bent her head, hiding her eyes below her lashes.

_Iolaus. Always Iolaus. How were she and Hercules ever to get any time together if that irritating little man was always hanging around? She remembered only too clearly, two years ago, when Hercules had confided how much Iolaus meant to him...how he couldn't imagine life without his brave and irrepressible friend. She remembered the first pang of jealousy, when she'd seen Hercules smile at Iolaus, that smile so full of light and love...the smile which was rightfully hers and hers alone. She had decided, in that moment, Iolaus had to die. _

_She'd known then that Hercules would be devastated if anything ever happened to Iolaus, and that he would need someone he loved, who loved him, to comfort him and to show him the way to a new life. Iolaus. How she hated him. He was always there, getting in the way, filling the air with his incessant chatter, always taking Hercules away. She hated that Hercules was always talking about him, how brave he was, how daring. She hated the way they spent all their time together...so long as Iolaus was around, she couldn't get close to Hercules, have him to herself. Oh, he'd pay for coming between them all these years...he'd suffer terribly...he'd wish he was dead, just so the pain would end. _

_But, she pitied him, too. It wasn't really his fault that he was in the way, and he clearly loved Hercules, in his own way. He was loyal...and he'd shown his willingness to die for Hercules. Well, she could help him prove his devotion, help him give his life to ensure Hercules' future happiness. He wasn't a bad sort, but...it was destiny, after all...that he should suffer and die, so that Hercules could finally belong to her. Gods, it had to be soon...she loved Hercules so much, needed so much to be with him....soon. _

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud, joyful shout behind her. "Hercules, my friend! 'Tica, why didn't you tell me he was here? Hercules, it's so good to see you....how are the preparations for the Games progressing...such a marvelous idea! There are thousands upon thousands of people here to enjoy them and to celebrate our athletes from all over Greece!"

Hercules held out his arm, to clasp his friend's. "Aristos, old friend," he said warmly, his eyes alight with friendship, "it's been far too long. It's good to see you looking so well...and your 'daughter'," he continued, smiling down at 'Tica, "has grown into a beautiful woman!"

Aristas laughed heartily, as he wrapped an arm around his much beloved stepdaugher, hugging her, "Aye, Amatica has, hasn't she... takes after her mother."

Hercules nodded, the memories in his eyes, "Yes...she does. Leah was a wonderful, lovely woman. I know how much you both miss her."

_Gods, do we have to talk about her? You never really knew her, never knew she was mean to me, never knew how much she deserved to die...she thought I was bad, but, I'm not bad. I'm special...the Fates have created a wonderful life for me, and she just didn't understand. Better that she's dead...it was right that she suffered so dreadfully, right that her body had been so wracked with pain...she'd never loved 'Tica enough, never really wanted her to be happy...she was only, ever, concerned about herself, about her own happiness...well, she'd paid for that...she'd never have made Aristos happy...he's been better off without her...if he only knew, he'd be grateful to me.... _

Aristos sighed a bit, his eyes focused back on the past for a moment, then he smiled again, "We don't see enough of you, Hercules, or of Iolaus....if you have time, after the Games, I'd be honoured if you'd come to stay with us awhile in Pyrgos...I've the Inn, there's lots of room...and we could catch up on old times."

Hercules raised his mug in a salute, grinning, "You're on, Aristos...though, you may be sorry...perhaps you've forgotten Iolaus' very healthy appetite?"

Aristas laughed, "No, I haven't forgotten...but, it's good to see someone enjoy so much what one cooks. Good, we'll travel back together....and, in the meantime, if you'd like, you and Iolaus are welcome to stay in our hostel out back."

Hercules smiled. "'Tica has already made the kind offer of shelter...but, as I explained, Iolaus and I are staying below. He's one of the athletes, and with my role as 'Master of the Games," we're both pretty much required to stay on site. But, thank you...the offer is much appreciated."

Aristas' nodded back, understanding, but then his attention was caught by other customers. "I'm sorry, Hercules, but 'Tica and I really must take care of others here...if you'll excuse us? And, we'll see you again later, perhaps?"

"I've already made him promise to take all his meals with us, Father!" 'Tica announced happily.

"Good! Good! Then, we'll see you and Iolaus later...until then!"

"Wait! What do I owe you...." Hercules asked, fishing in his pouch for coins.

Aristas waved a negligent hand. "Careful, Hercules...you'll insult me! Of course, it's on the house...you're family....your presence is payment enough!"

Hercules shook his head, but smiled gratefully. He liked to pay his way, always feeling as if he was taking advantage when people offered him food or lodging for free. But, Aristos was an old friend, a comrade from wars long past...he did not wish to argue with him. There would be chores he and Iolaus could do back at his Inn in Pyrgos which would be payment in kind. "Thank you, Aristos," was all he said. 'Tica gazed at him a moment more, then, when her father called her, she turned to see to other customers.

_There was no need to worry. She'd see him again later...and, best of all, he'd be going home with them! And, he'd called her 'beautiful', he'd noticed she'd grown up...had gazed at her with such admiration and desire.... The Fates were bringing them together, as she'd known they would. He was coming home with her, staying this time...forever. He would be hers, and hers alone.... _

* * *

When Hercules returned to the Olympia site, he once again had to wade through crowds of athletes, officials, priests, coaches, warriors....hundreds of men....to find his friend. Fortunately, since he stood above most others, he could scan the crowd, looking for a head of unruly golden curls. Spotting Iolaus just returning from the stadium, he made his way across the sanctuary area, stopping for a moment at the fountain along the north wall of the grounds, for a cup of water. It was a hot day.

Iolaus had spotted him, and made his way over, also grateful the designers had created this neverending flow of water for the athletes and others frequenting the Olympic grounds. Wiping the back of his hand over his forehead, Iolaus sighed a little. Gods, it was hot! "Have a nice lunch?" he asked.

"Yeah...good to see Aristos again. He's offered us meals for as long as we're here...and invited us back to his Inn in Pyrgos for a visit when the Games are over."

"That's _great_!" crowed Iolaus enthusiastically, "I've always loved his cooking...what he can do with a fresh boar...or rabbit...or pheasant...or grouse...." Iolaus also remembered that he'd inevitably felt a bit unwell by the end of their visits over the last couple of years, but he assumed it was only because he'd partaken so heartily of all the rich fare Aristos laid before them. He told himself he'd have to learn moderation. Yeah. Right.

Hercules laughed, clapping Iolaus on the back, "I get the picture! So, is the archery area set up?"

"Yep...and, I blocked off the distances for the various races. And, I showed some of the officials where to lay out the wrestling square. The javelin and discus throwers can use the same area as the archers, we'll just have to remove the targets. So, I think the stadium is about ready."

"Thanks, Iolaus," murmured Hercules, grateful. How he had ever gotten himself into all this was a mystery...he should have arranged to be out of the country or something...but, he'd forgotten the Games were coming up again until it was too late to get away. Besides, he smiled, looking down at Iolaus, who was busy scanning the sanctuary grounds, seeking more work to occupy his restless spirit, Iolaus made it seem easy...and, his buddy was looking forward to participating as a contender in the races and in the archery contest again this year. Four years ago, he'd won at archery and the one hundred yard sprint. The prize wasn't much more than a token of gold, but, the coins helped...Iolaus never complained about the fact they hardly ever had any money, but he was always glad to be able to afford a comfortable bed, or a meal in a tavern, when they had the dinars.

"So," Iolaus mused, "I guess we should set out the final schedule of events and brief the officials...the Games start tomorrow!"

Hercules nodded, and followed his friend back through the crowds to the stadium, to meet with the track officials who would supervise and judge the various contests of athletic excellence.

* * *

Hercules and Iolaus spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening briefing officials and athletes. He'd asked Iolaus once if he wanted to take some time off to practice, but Iolaus had only looked up at him with one brow arched, responding, "Why? Do you think I need the practice?"

Hercules had laughed and shook his head 'no'. Iolaus got his practice running practically every other day, while they chased after bandits, or took on one monster or another. And, it was his skill at archery which often kept them fed. No. Iolaus didn't need to practice. Even though he was older than the vast majority of the other contenders, Hercules would have bet money on his friend. If he had money to bet. If he'd been allowed to bet, which he wasn't, as 'Master of the Games'... he made a face at the grandiose title. Four years from now, they really had to be somewhere else...even if Iolaus did want to compete. There were other festivals. Other games. Ones where Herc could get by with being a judge, where he didn't have to feel so responsible for everything. Or so much in the limelight. Hero he might be, but his humility always made him uncomfortable with acclaim.

Now, as the sun set, they made their way up the hill, through the gates, and wound their way through the market area. Iolaus paused from time to time to admire the goods in various stalls. He'd often thought it was a good thing he didn't have money or a home...otherwise, he'd still be impoverished, but surrounded by a lot of useless clutter! He chuckled in amusement at the image in his mind, then shrugged and simply enjoyed the atmosphere, and the craftsmanship of the vast range of goods on display. Finally, mostly because he was actually starving, he let Hercules drag him along to Aristos' tavern in a tent.

It was after the dinner rush, so they had no difficulty finding a table outside, where they could enjoy the cooling evening air. It seemed they had hardly settled themselves, when a voice welcomed them with honeyed tones. "Hercules...you're back! I was afraid you had forgotten your promise."

Iolaus looked up at the sound of the voice, and saw a stunningly pretty girl gazing with adoring admiration at his friend. Chuckling, he said, "'Tica! Don't tell me it's you! By the gods, girl...you've grown up!" Iolaus cast an appreciative glance from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and back to her eyes...and was a bit taken aback at the expression he found there. Just for a moment, he thought he'd seen a cold resentment, but then there was a flash of warmth and a welcoming smile. He must have imagined the hostility...certainly, there was no reason for it. She hardly knew him...in the past five years, he'd only seen her a few times, when they'd visited for a few days, enjoying the time off to relax, with no warlords or difficult gods to trouble them for a while.

"Iolaus," she purred, "so nice to see you, too...and you look just the same!"

Iolaus laughed outright. "I'll take that as a compliment!"

"Well, of course...what else could it have been?" she enquired, with a languorous batting of her abundant lashes. "Now, what can I offer the two of you?"

"I'm starving!" Iolaus said, "So, how about a large bowl of stew, some bread, a mug of ale...and whatever sweet thing you have for dessert!" He grinned and winked at her when she tossed her hair at the 'sweet thing' comment...as if! She was too young for his tastes, but it was alright if she thought he was flirting. Didn't hurt anything...so long as Aristos didn't take offence!

Hercules nodded, "I'll have the same...let your Dad know we're here, would you...if he has time, maybe the two of you could join us."

She smiled brightly at him, "I'll ask...most of the rush is over. We should at least be able to join you a little later...."

"Good!" smiled Hercules. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away to see to their orders.

Iolaus had been watching with much amusement. The kid sure had it bad for Herc! "Careful, Herc... folks'll think you're robbing the cradle...." he chuckled.

Hercules cast Iolaus a narrow look. "She's just a kid."

"Yeah? Take another look...she's all grown up...and the way she looks at you, I think she'd like to have _you_ for dessert!"

Hercules snorted. "Get serious...she's just being pleasant. She knows we're old friends of Aristos," he replied, choosing to ignore his own uncomfortable awareness of her attentions.

Iolaus grinned as he shook his head, "I don't think she thinks of you as an 'old' friend of her stepfather's! I keep telling you, Herc, you'll get yourself into trouble if you don't learn how to gracefully turn away such readily offered affection!"

Hercules just shook his head. This was an old discussion...and he never, well rarely, ran into trouble so long as he just stayed pleasant...and got out of town in a hurry. He frowned a bit, thinking that this time, 'getting out of town' wasn't an option...and, that he'd agreed to return to their home, to visit, after the Games. Perhaps he'd have to work at a little misdirection, get her attention focused on other things. Like Iolaus' stories! When Aristos and 'Tica joined them later, he'd get Iolaus started on his storytelling...and before long, the evening would be over and they'd have to return to the sanctuary grounds. Good plan.

'Tica returned with their food and drink, setting their servings carefully before them. "I dished these up, just for the two of you...enjoy!" she said enthusiastically, casting a sidelong look at Iolaus before giving a radiant smile to Hercules. "Father said we'd join you for dessert...in just a little while...."

_It was all working so perfectly. She would have all the time she needed to deal with Iolaus, slowly, a little at a time, so no one would ever know why he had sickened...and succumbed to a mysterious illness. Ah, poor man. Iolaus was doing her a favour after all...his death would bring Hercules even closer to her, make him need her more. She'd have to be kind to him, make his last days as easy as possible, make all of his favourite foods. She could see herself caring for him, wiping the sweat from his brow, holding him when his body arced in pain, murmuring gentle words of comfort...she'd be an angel who would bring light to his last hours, watching over him. She'd be his angel of death.... _

_Full of compassion for this man who was destined to be a sacrifice to their love, she smiled warmly down upon him as he took his first bites of the food she had lovingly prepared for him, with the special ingredients she had tested during their last few visits, to see what effect they would have on him. At the memory of how quickly he had become ill, she smiled more broadly. _

Herculed nodded, picking up a spoon...Iolaus had already taken a large mouthful of the tempting warm roll. "Great!" Iolaus mumbled around his mouthful of bread, swallowing quickly so that he could return the wide bright smile she bestowed upon him, before she turned away to see to other customers. Yeah, he'd only imagined the look of resentment and hostility. She was probably tired, poor kid...looked like she was being run off her feet by all the business the tavern was enjoying.

It was a pleasant evening. Aristos and Iolaus exchanged stories, each one more outrageous than the other. They laughed long and hard, until all reluctantly acknowledged that it was late, it was time to go...and they'd have lots more time to visit in the days ahead.

_'Tica sat and admired Hercules, wishing they could be alone, wishing Iolaus wasn't there...or, at least, wishing he didn't talk so much! Gods...he could be very annoying. Ah well, it wouldn't be long before she had Hercules to herself. She smiled at the images of romance conjured up by this thought, saw herself wrapped in those strong arms, heard his words of tenderness and everlasting love. He was so brave, so handsome...and, he'd asked her to join them...she was glad he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his! And, she didn't mind that he was quiet...he smiled at her from time to time, and it was enough. His eyes told her how he felt about her...promised he'd always love her. _

As the two heroes took their leave, Aristos wished Iolaus luck in his competitions the next day.

* * *

The next morning, Hercules rousted Iolaus out of bed. "Rise and shine, buddy! The Games will soon begin!"

"Ahh..what?" Iolaus responded a little blearily, then ran a hand through his curls and sat up, yawning and stretching. "Oh, yeah...right! Today I get to win some gold!"

Hercules laughed. "Well, we'll hope so anyway. C'mon, let's get some breakfast...it's going to be a busy day."

Iolaus had finished putting on his boots, and pushed his arms into his vest. Standing, he rubbed his stomach and grimaced a bit. "Uh...actually, I'm not really hungry...you go ahead...."

Hercules had been heading toward the door of the small chamber they had shared in the athlete's quarters. Now, he turned, a look of concern on his face. "Not hungry? Why? Are you sick?"

"No...I'm not sick! I just...don't feel all that great. But, I'm not sick. I'm fine...I'm just not hungry."

"Wouldn't be butterflies of anticipation of all those prizes you intend to win, would it?" Herc asked, teasing.

Iolaus grinned up at him, "Yeah...that's probably it! You know how much I love these competitions!"

"Okay...I'll head up to Aristos' place... maybe I'll get 'Tica to wrap up a care package for you. It'll be a long day...and no time to eat once the Games begin at midday."

"Yeah, okay...maybe an apple or two...tell them I'll see them later...." Iolaus and Hercules ambled down the hall of the dormitory and, once outside, Herc turned left to head up the hill, and Iolaus continued through the Temple grounds to the stadium to make sure everything was in order for the day's events. Swallowing with some difficulty, he grimaced at the soreness of his throat. But, then, he just pushed its reality away. He wasn't getting sick...no way.

* * *

Iolaus felt better, thank the Gods, as the morning went by. For awhile he had been afraid he might have a touch of the 'flu, or maybe a cold had made his throat feel scratchy, but it was fine now...so he was glad when Herc came back with a couple of apples for him. "'Tica was really sorry to hear you weren't feeling all that great...she wanted to send something more substantial, but I explained that you were competing today, and the apples were more than enough." Iolaus nodded gratefully as he took the apples, eating one, and then the other...he was hungry, finally, and the fruit was very welcome.

Munching on them, he steered Hercules to the stadium and pointed out the last minute changes he'd made to the competition areas, and they dealt with the myriad questions posed by the priest about the final touches to the flame ceremony, and by the officials, about the various competitions to be held that day. Just before noon, Iolaus headed back to the dormitory to shuck his clothes...why the archers had to compete nude was beyond him...it wasn't like wrestling, where clothes could get in the way and be a handicap, but it was tradition. He oiled his skin to protect it from the blazing sun. Then, he picked up his bow and quiver of arrows...the afternoon's events would begin with the archery contest... and headed back into the sanctuary grounds.

He was back in plenty of time to see the line of seven priestesses file out of Zeus' Temple, and to join the line of athletes who would parade into the stadium behind them. Hercules, of course, was near the head of the line, just behind the priestesses, the priests and their sacrificial bull. The grounds were crowded with men pouring in to follow them into the stadium, to find seats to watch the games. As they marched through the fifty foot passage, cut through stone to separate the Temple grounds from the stadium, Iolaus could hear the swelling of cheers of thousands of voices from those spectators who had been arriving all morning to find the best seats, the best vantage points, to watch their favourite games. Some loved the archery...others had bets on the wrestlers, while still others wanted to be higher up to get a good view of the races around the track.

A hush fell as the head priestess called upon Apollo to bless their Games with eternal light. Then, she held a thick piece of glass over the sheaf of kindling she held in her hand, angled to catch the sun. It was as if thousands of throats held their breaths until the kindling sparked and smoked...and then a sigh, like a gust of wind, blew through the stadium. Apollo had blessed the Games...and they could now begin. The priestess, with three junior priestesses striding on either side, just behind her, moved to the kindling and logs prepared at the centre of the field, and handed the torch to Hercules. The tall, bronzed demigod bowed his head to her, then turned and lit the eternal flame...so long as it burned, there would be peace and prosperity at Olympia. The crowd roared its approval, the sound beating down upon them from all sides.

Then, the priests led up the sacrificial bull...the poor beast had been drugged to keep it docile in the midst of a crowd of thousands. The Priest called upon Zeus, to bless the Games and his sanctuary at Olympia. Iolaus looked away when the Priest took the long, finely honed sacrificial blade and slit the beast's throat, catching its blood in a large silver bucket...which soon overflowed, allowing the bounty of life to carry the God's blessing into the earth. He didn't mind blood...he just hated to see such a noble creature killed with no chance to protect itself, no chance to fight back. 'Hope you appreciate it, Zeus,' he thought, with less than desirable piety.

The body of the bull collapsed onto the wooden sled on which the beast had been placed for sacrifice...and now the priests hauled it to the far end of the field, where they would prepare it for the ceremonial meal for the athletes at the end of the Games the next day.

As they moved from the centre of the field, Hercules stood tall, and spread his arms wide, as he called to the crowd. "Welcome to the third Olympic Games!" he cried, to the resounding cheers from twenty thousand throats. Once the roar had quieted, he continued, "The Games will continue today until sundown, and will recommence tomorrow at dawn, to end tomorrow at dusk. Athletes have come from every corner of Greece...and each is already a champion. Only the best of each City has come to compete here with their comrades...to show us the best amongst us. So, let the Games begin!" The crowd roared out again, as the athletes who would not compete in the first sport moved to a grassy area in front of the stands to watch the archery contest.

There were a dozen competitors who faced the challenge of hitting a variety of targets...to come closest to the centre of a block of wood painted with circles, to impale apples thrown into the air, and then to hit grouse let loose to fly in erratic patterns...and, finally, to send an arrow through a small aperture in a piece of wood, to fly into a target beyond. They were all good...or they wouldn't have been at the Games. All hit the centre of the wooden target...it was too easy. Eight impaled the apples with arrows, while one missed completely and another merely grazed the fruit. Of the eight, four killed the grouse that were their targets...the grouse had been a lot trickier because they flew erratically and it took a fine judgment to speed the arrow to where the grouse was likely to be, as it flew madly about the field. Now, the last four competitors prepared to shoot through the narrow aperture three hundred feet away. The crowd had been cheering loudly, calling to their favourites, hissing when their champions missed...but, now, all was silent.

This challenge took extraordinary skill...it would appear to be a completely straight shot...but, couldn't be straight, because the arrow had to cut across a wind, had to rise, then descend, to cover the distance, but only slightly, or it would not make it through the aperture...and had to fly with enough strength to continue through to land solidly in the target beyond...clip the side of the narrow passage, and the arrow would be off balance, and would fall before it embedded itself firmly.

The first archer pulled back his bow, and let the arrow fly...too fast to see...but, it hit the side of the aperture, burying itself into the wood just to the right of the opening. An official ran out to remove the arrow, while the crowd continued to hold it's collective breath. The second archer let his arrow fly, but it was too high, and skimmed over the aperture, and over the target beyond. The crowd had to breathe...and a sigh whispered around the stadium. The third archer stood poised, arrow notched, bow drawn tightly, gauging the wind, the angles...and let fly, and the arrow sped through the aperture, but it's feathered flight caught on the lower edge of the narrow hole, breaking its clean passage...it twisted, its momentum broken, and dropped awkwardly to the ground in front of the target. This was the closest so far....if the fourth did not do better, the third archer would win.

Iolaus stepped forward to the mark. A slight breeze caught his golden hair and ruffled it, his oiled body gleamed in the glow of the afternoon sun. He drew back and sighted carefully...then smiled as he let the arrow fly...true...through the aperture, to lodge with a thud which resounded through the hushed stadium... and then the roar of the crowd burst free, unleashing their enthusiastic admiration and awe for such splendid marksmanship. It was an amazing feat...one which many had considered impossible. But, this man had met the challenge.

Iolaus bent his head a little, in gratitude for the resounding approbation of his skill, then lifted it to face the crowds and to smile brightly upon them all, waving to acknowledge their acclaim. Hercules was grinning ear to ear as he crossed the field, two small pouches in his hands. First, he called the third archer forward, a man from Argos, and presented him with his award of silver. Then he turned to Iolaus, of Thebes, and presented him with his award of gold. "Congratulations, Iolaus! That was fantastic!" he said, his voice soft, but his face wreathed in smiles, his eyes alight with appreciation of his friend's skill and delight at the cheers shouted for Iolaus alone.

Iolaus grinned back, as he gratefully received the award. "Dinner's on me this month!" he chuckled, also delighted with the win...and the acknowledgement by a thousand score of voices. As he hefted the bag of gold, he looked down at his body, then grinned wryly back up at Hercules. "Um...no pockets... would you hold onto this for me?"

Herc laughed as he took the small bag back and slipped it into his shirt for safekeeping. He clapped his friend on the shoulder, then watched him move to stand with the other athletes, awaiting his turn to compete again later that afternoon.

The wrestlers came next...strong, muscled, men, heads shaved clean, with golden and bronzed skin glowing with oil in the bright light of the sun. This was a long contest, and only the elimination trials would be held this afternoon, with the semifinals the next morning, finals in the afternoon. The sun was just beginning to set, when the first race of the Games was called...the one hundred yard sprint.

Iolaus again took his place with the other competitors...ten of them this time. They stretched to loosen muscles, then bent, ready to run, their eyes on the marker one hundred yards away, waiting, watching from the corner of their eyes, for Hercules to drop his arm, signaling the beginning of the race. Again, the crowd hushed, a slight breeze cooled the oiled skin of the athletes, and then the arm dropped and they were running, racing with all their hearts toward victory.

Legs pumped, arms beat up and back, chins were slightly raised, hair flying as they charged down the sandy track, their bare feet gripping and pushing off the hot sand as they pounded down the straightaway. The ten remained clustered tight together for the first twenty-five yards, then the field began to spread, with five pulling further ahead. By the time they'd passed the fifty yard mark, three had surged well ahead of the others, pounding, pulling hot air into their pumping lungs, reaching for greater speed. At the seventy-five yard mark, there were two in the lead...a tall, dark youth from Mycenae, and a small, well muscled golden haired athlete from Thebes. Twenty yards left, then fifteen. The taller youth could eat up the ground with his long strides....but, the blond matched him...twelve yards, then ten...and suddenly, the blond surged ahead...running as if he had only begun to run, running as if he had wings on his feet, running like the wind...and he pulled well ahead, crossing the finish line with a healthy margin.

The crowd went wild as he tore up the last ten yards...they could not believe the speed, the apparent effortlessness and grace. Iolaus crossed the line, arms raised high in victory, then he did a little dance, leaping with exhilaration and the sheer joy of running. Turning, he met the man from Mycenae, greeting him with a hug when he crossed the line, and they pounded each other on the back in congratulation for a race well run...and well won.

Again, Hercules crossed the field with the small pouches in his hands. He congratulated Tobias of Mycenae, and presented him with silver, then turned, grinning, to present Iolaus with his award of gold.

"Great race, Iolaus!" he said enthusiastically... "It looked like you were flying at the end!"

"I felt like I was flying!" Iolaus grinned back, still breathing deeply, as he took the award. "Well, looks like I'm a rich man!" he said, happily, thinking about the comfort of feather beds in snug inns, and meals around a tavern fire...and gifts he could buy for Solstice...now that he could afford them!

Hercules clapped him on the shoulder, ruffled his hair. "I'll settle things with the officials for tomorrow, and meet you outside the dormitory. Once you're dressed, we'll head over to Aristos' place for dinner...I assume you're hungry?"

Handing the bag of gold back to Hercules for safekeeping, Iolaus just grinned, "Oh yeah...starving! Don't be long," he called, as he loped away across the field, heading toward the passage back into the temple area, waving at the cheering crowds as he ran. Tomorrow, he'd just sit back and enjoy the rest of the Games...his own competitions were over...and won.

* * *

Iolaus took time to bathe in the river down the hill behind the dormitory, to soap off the sweat and oil. Even so, it only took him a short while to get dressed and he was waiting for Hercules as his friend jogged across the Temple grounds. Gods. He was starved! Two apples weren't really enough to keep him going, and now that the competitions were over, and he was relaxed, he could enjoy the excellent food Aristos was sure to have prepared for the evening meal.

The sun had set, taking with it the heat of the day. Iolaus felt good, really good...the day had been a complete success. And, Herc was also relaxing a little, now that the Games were underway, and everything was going perfectly. As they walked up the hill to the market area, Hercules congratulated him again on his extraordinary performances during the competitions.

"Enough, Hercules!" Iolaus chuckled, "You'll make my head swell!"

Hercules laughed back at his friend. "Oh, I'm not worried about that...if you were the sort to be boastful, you'd have become insufferable a long time ago! Oh, by the way," Herc continued, patting a slight bulge in his shirt, "I still have your prize money....."

"That's okay...I trust you with it...and, besides, I don't have any pockets. Maybe Aristos would hold onto to it for us until we leave...I don't really like to leave it lying around in the dormitory and it's a nuisance for you to have to carry it around."

Herc laid a fond hand on Iolaus' shoulder. "I'm sure he'd be glad to secure it for you, not _us_...these are your winnings, pal."

Iolaus flashed him a cheeky grin, "Hey, you know we share what we have....Gods know, the hero business doesn't pay well enough to keep us clothed and fed!"

Herc just smiled and shook his head. Iolaus was as likely to give the money away as spend it on himself. But, not this time. Hercules was determined that Iolaus would enjoy the benefits of this win, in comfortable inns and inviting taverns, for a long time to come. And, maybe he could even persuade his friend to buy a new pack sack...the current one was old and ratty...maybe go all out and buy some new leather pants and boots.

They headed straight through the market to Aristos' tavern, drawn on by the enticing scent of fresh baked bread, savoury soup, and roasted boar. However, they found themselves stopped every few feet by wellwishers congratulating Iolaus on his amazing performances that day in the stadium. It seemed a hundred people wanted to touch him, talk to him, praise him...until he was blushing from the unaccustomed celebrity. But, his eyes were sparkling with the sheer joy of the moment and, looking at him, Hercules beamed in gratitude for the recognition and acclaim Iolaus was enjoying...it was warranted regularly, but given all too rarely.

By the time they arrived at the tented tavern, Iolaus was glowing with life and laughter, fairly crackling with energy and happiness. This was a day he would remember for the rest of his life. As they came into the torchlit precinct of the tavern, 'Tica spotted them and ran to throw her arms around Iolaus, to hug him tight and congratulate him on the wonder of his achievements that day...his skill as a marksman and his superhuman speed had been the talk in the tavern all evening. He caught the lively bundle of lovely young woman in his arms and hugged her back, appreciative of her warmth and obvious delight for him.

Thanking her, he set her back onto to her feet, grinning as she blushed and dimpled prettily. "I'm so happy for you, Iolaus....this must be one of the best days of your life!" she murmured with unconscious insight and intuition.

_Oh yes, she was happy for him, very happy. It was right that he should enjoy such a pinnacle of success...he'd have less to regret when his life came to an end, having already achieved so much...his life would never be better than this...she was saving him from years that could never measure up, never be this good again...there was really no need, no reason for him to live any longer...._

"You can believe it, 'Tica...it's been an absolutely wonderful day! And, thanks, your good wishes mean a lot...you're very sweet to be happy for me!"

Iolaus' attention was caught by Aristos, when his old friend appeared and wrapped him in a bear hug. "Boy, you did good today!" Aristos said warmly, grinning at the man he had tutored as a youth on the fields of battle outside Troy. Iolaus had always burned with energy, glowing with his own special light...and tonight, it seemed almost as if he was incandescent. "Come along, both of you...you must be hungry. 'Tica, bring our heroes some of that good red wine I've been hoarding for a proper celebration... and the dinner we've been keeping for them!" 'Tica bobbed obligingly and whirled back into the dim interior of the tent to carry out her duties, while Aristos led his two friends to a table in the corner, where they could catch the evening breeze coming off the mountain, relax in the light of tall torches burning around the market area.

"No one's been talking about anything else, since the Games ended this afternoon. Gods, Iolaus, I wish I could have been there to see it!"

"It was worth seeing, Aristos," Hercules confirmed proudly.

Iolaus chuckled. "Hey...I'm glad I won...but, think about it. When you're running away from monsters and lightning bolts from irritated gods you learn how to move fast...and when you have to hunt for your dinner as often as I have over the years, well, you learn how to hit your target. It wasn't really a fair competition...the kids didn't have a chance!"

They all laughed, and settled back to linger over the details of the day. 'Tica appeared, bearing a large tray with their goblets of wine, bowls of soup, warm rolls of bread and plates of roast boar, loaded with boiled potatoes, sweet turnip, and sliced tomatoes. When Hercules saw her coming with the heavily laden tray, he jumped up to take it from her, winning a smile of gratitude and adoration. He smiled in acknowledgement of the gratitude, but turned away, refusing to acknowledge the adoration. She was just a kid...she'd get over it. Best he be gentle and ignore the blatant display of affection...she'd be embarrassed some day, if she ever realized how obvious she was being. Ah youth...first infatuations were so intense, so dramatic and painful.

There was considerable merriment again that night, as they laughed well past the moon's rise...and happily consumed two of Aristos' special bottles of warm red wine. Just before they left, Iolaus remembered the prize money and prevailed upon Aristos to keep it safe for them...Aristos was visibly honoured, touched by the trust placed in him, and he hugged Iolaus warmly when he stood to leave.

_'Tica had sat quietly, watching Hercules, hating the way he looked at Iolaus, with such admiration and joy in his friend's success. He'd hardly glanced at her all night long, just the occasional, almost absentminded smile, and then he was laughing again at something Iolaus said...it was always like this when Iolaus was around...it was why he had to suffer...why he had to die. _

_When they left, and Hercules had draped an arm around Iolaus' shoulders, both in unconscious friendship and in an attempt to give some stability to his buddy, who was weaving just a little from the wine, she felt she could have happily driven a dagger into the blond's chest....just for the joy of watching the smug smile die from his lips and the light fade from his eyes. Those strong arms should be around her, not him...he had no right, not anymore. Hercules belonged to her. She was glad she'd given him double the portion she had ever given before... she only wished she could see it's effects...his suffering would begin tonight.... _

_But, then she smiled. The gold he had left with Aristos was a lovely gift really....so generous and so appropriate that his victories today should be the riches with which she and Hercules would begin their life together. _

* * *

"Oh gods, just let me die...." Iolaus moaned, holding his head, when Hercules tried to drag him out of bed the next morning.

Hercules chuckled, completely unsympathetic. "A little too much celebration last night?"

"Ohhh, yeah...way too much...." Iolaus murmured, wishing the blinding pain in his head would let up...or let him sink back into oblivion. Being awake with it was too much to contemplate. "That was some wine," he reflected with regret. And it had tasted and felt so good going down...ah well, it was just a hangover... he'd get over it.

He didn't intend to admit to Hercules that he had had to get up in the night and stagger out behind the dormitory to empty his stomach...gods, he'd been sick...no wonder his throat was sore. He moaned softly in memory of the unbelievable dagger of pain which had ripped through his body, driving him to his knees. What the hell had he eaten that had made him so ill?

Hercules shook his head as he gazed down at his bleary eyed friend. "Looks like maybe you need to sleep a while longer...."

"Mmmm, good idea, Herc," Iolaus mumbled as he rolled over on the cot and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. "I'll see you later.... 'kay?"

"Okay, Iolaus," Hercules grinned, then turned to leave quietly. Iolaus had deserved to celebrate and Hercules didn't begrudge him the need to sleep it off. In a couple of hours, Iolaus would be up and looking for action. Meanwhile, Hercules had to get over to the stadium, to begin the day's events.

Iolaus heard Herc leave as he slipped back to sleep. Gods, he felt wretched. There was a metallic taste in his mouth, his throat was sore again...and the crampy, 'flu like feeling was back, making him feel nauseous. He couldn't remember the last time a simple bottle of wine had made him feel this bad....some wine, was right.

* * *

It was almost noon before Iolaus' headache and nausea had abated enough for him to consider facing the bright light of day. He went back to the river to bathe, hoping the chill water would refresh him, then he headed over to the stadium. He still felt queasy and oddly weak, but figured it was just the residual effects of a very good night. Gods, he was getting too old to eat and drink like a kid...his body just wouldn't take it anymore. He grinned wryly at his thoughts, thinking that he'd better find something else to think about or he'd be seriously depressed by the end of the day!

Herc saw him enter the stadium and climb up the rows of seats to find a good vantage point. They waved at one another, and then Herc's attention was again caught by his duties. Iolaus had missed the javelin throw competition, but the discus throwing was just about to begin. The semifinale heat of the wrestling competition had been held that morning as well, and the finals would be held late in the afternoon.

It was a busy, full day...Hercules was surprised at how fast the time passed as he moved from one event to another, awarding prizes to the winners. Immediately after the discus throw, there had been a series of races, and then, finally the wrestling. The crowds had remained enthusiastic, cheering loudly for each champion, and now, finally, the third Olympic Games were coming to an end. All that remained was the ceremonial dinner of the sacrificial bull, a celebration and ceremony open only to the athletes and their coaches...and Hercules, of course.

Iolaus climbed down from the stands, weaving his way through the departing crowds and ambled over to meet Hercules in the centre of the field. He was feeling great again...he had just needed a bit of rest. Herc grinned at him as he came up, "So...still alive?"

"Oh yeah...and good as new! Starving actually...I haven't eaten all day, and that bull smells good!" Iolaus chuckled as they turned to wander across the field to the far end where plank tables had been set up, with barrel stools, for the meal.

There was much toasting over the course of the evening, but Iolaus took care to go light on the wine...he really didn't want another headache like the last one! But, it was a good night...full of camaraderie, and high spirits as the athletes, men in the prime of their lives, celebrated their youth, health and skill. Finally, the fires burning low to embers, the last ceremony of the Games complete, the men drifted back across the field of the stadium, then across the Temple grounds back to their dormitory. The heroic achievements of these Games would be remembered for a long, long time...bards would tell the stories of the feats of strength, endurance and skill. It was over for another four years.

Iolaus yawned as they made their way toward the dormitory. "Well...I guess we're off to Aristos' Inn tomorrow...remind me not to drink anymore of his wine!" he said cheerfully, but quite seriously.

"Oh, I'll remind you...as much good as that'll do!" Hercules chuckled.

Iolaus shot him a look, then laughed in his turn. "Yeah...I never seem to learn, do I?"

Herc looped an arm around his shoulders, "No, my friend, you never do....you're too busy enjoying the moment, caught in the celebration of life as you live it, to worry about tomorrow. And...that's not such a bad thing...."

"So...do you want me to protect you from 'Tica?" Iolaus teased.

Hercules shook him a little as he laughed. "Protect me? The way she hugged you last night, I was sure she'd transferred her affections to you! Hero of the Games that you are!"

Iolaus snorted at that. "Yeah, you wish. Sorry, Herc, it was pretty clear from the way she gazed at you all evening, with boundless admiration, hanging on your every word, that I'm in no danger of attracting her attentions. She's all yours...and, seriously buddy, if we're going to visit for very long, you're going to have to find a way to let her down gently."

Herc shook his head. "Iolaus...Iolaus...you take it all too seriously...she's just a kid...it's a passing infatuation. Me this week, the blacksmith's apprentice next week, and a wandering bard the week after that. If I just ignore it, she'll get the message and let it go...don't worry so much."

Iolaus nodded as they entered the dormitory and climbed the stairs up to their floor. But, he wasn't so sure. 'Tica looked at Herc like the sun rose and set on him...and, Iolaus didn't think she'd give up that easily. He was a little sorry for her, because he knew she was going to get hurt...but, that was all part of growing up. She'd survive...no one ever died from puppy love. Ah well, it was Herc's problem, not his. In the great span of time, this was no big deal.

* * *

The next morning, Hercules and Iolaus took their leave of the other athletes and Games officials, as everyone packed up and headed away from Olympia. Then, they too headed up the hill for the last time, roaming through the market area, which had the bereft, dreary look of any fair when most of the stalls were dismantled, the bright goods packed away and pieces of parchment and other refuse blew across the trampled, barren ground. When they arrived at Aristos' tent, they were in time to help the final dismantling and packing up of the tavern gear, as well as the blankets and pillows used in the improvised inn. Aristos' had two huge wagons, which would be pulled by the four oxen grazing nearby.

"Morning, friends!" called Aristos, as he pulled his attention away from supervising the loading and storage of the dismantled tables in the back of one wagon. "'Tica has kept out some breakfast for the two of you...she's just inside the tent, packing up the kitchen."

Herc and Iolaus nodded and waved as they headed into the tent. 'Tica was packing the cooking utensils into crates, but she looked up with a gay smile when she saw them. "About time," she called, "I was beginning to think you two were going to sleep the morning away! Must have been some party last night over at the stadium!" She grinned as she turned to pick up the sacks of food she'd set aside for them. "Here you go...some fresh rolls, cold rabbit, cheese, apples and grapes. Hercules, this is yours and Iolaus, here's your sack."

The guys grinned back at her, grateful for her thoughtfulness.... "Rabbit! Great!" exclaimed Iolaus, as he rifled in his sack. Herc just shook his head, and handed Iolaus his portion of the rabbit...as far as he was concerned, they had enough of that when they were camping along whatever trail they found themselves upon, and the fruit, cheese and bread would be enough for him. Iolaus accepted the gift with a happy smile of contentment.

Taking a bite of his apple, Hercules turned to 'Tica. "Thanks for putting the care packages together for us, 'Tica...it was thoughtful. Is there anything we can do to help you pack up in here?"

'Tica drew her eyes away from Iolaus...she had been watching with pleasure his evident enjoyment of the rabbit. She'd known just how to tempt him. Turning her bright blue eyes to Hercules, she smiled at his offer and looked around. "Well, there's not really room for three of us to work in here, but, Hercules, if you want, you could stack the cauldrons, and load the heavy chests onto the wagons. Iolaus, I'm sure Father would like help getting the hostel tent taken down and folded for the journey."

Knowing when he was being dismissed, Iolaus nodded, and with a sidelong grin at Hercules, he headed out of the tent. Hercules ignored the grin, and bent to his tasks. 'Tica watched him for a moment, enjoying the ripple of muscles as he hoisted the first heavy chest onto a shoulder and carried it out to the waiting wagons.

_Gods, he was beautiful...and he'd wanted to spend time with her, cleverly asking what he could do to help....ah, it would be wonderful having him all to herself..... _

In an hour, they had everything packed up and were ready to go. Aristos hauled himself up into the box of the first wagon, to drive the oxen and called to 'Tica to join him. She shook her head playfully, "No, if you don't mind, I'll ride on the second wagon with Hercules!" 'Tica would have driven the second team on her own on the way to the Festival Games, but it was pretty clear she expected company on the way back.

Iolaus repressed a laugh, sounding a bit like he was choking. Covering it, pretending to cough, he glanced at Hercules with teasing eyes. Eyes that said, 'I told you so.....' Feeling the least bit trapped, Hercules helped her up into the box, and climbed up behind her, taking the reins and slapping them to get the oxen moving. It was going to be a long trip.

Iolaus elected to walk beside the first wagon, wanting the exercise after the big meal the night before. It was a beautiful day, warm but not hot, with a fresh pinescented breeze off the mountains behind them. The sky was cloudless, an endless, piercing blue. It wasn't far to Pyrgos...they'd be there by midafternoon.

They didn't have the road all to themselves, with so many thousands at the Games, some were bound to be headed west. But, there were two other roads out of Olympia, to the north and to the east, so most of the travelers had headed in other directions. Iolaus and Aristos kept up a good natured banter as the morning wore on, while 'Tica chattered happily to Hercules in the second wagon, caught in her imaginings of them as a couple, this only the first of many future journeys together.

But, as the sun moved toward its zenith, Iolaus began to feel the headache and sore throat return, bringing with them a disturbing sense of nausea and weakness. It wasn't as bad as the morning before, but he was concerned. Normally, he never got headaches, well, not unless he'd taken a roundhouse blow, or kick, to the head. And, normally, he had boundless energy, a kind of everflowing health and strength, which, truthfully, he took for granted. He began to wonder if it hadn't been the wine which had made him ill, but if, maybe, he'd picked up some mild infection...with so many thousands from all over Greece, it wouldn't be surprising. But, he hated being ill, hated to draw attention to himself, hated any perception of weakness ... so, he didn't say anything, just plodded along, increasingly quiet as the day wore on.

Hercules had noted the change in Iolaus' demeanor...the bounce in his step was gone, and he rubbed either his head, his throat or his stomach absentmindedly. Something wasn't right...Iolaus must've picked up some cold or flu during the Games. It was a good thing they'd be spending a few days at Aristos' Inn...the rest would do Iolaus good. His attention caught when 'Tica again rested a hand on his arm, he turned back to her, nodding and smiling softly at whatever it was she was saying. Gods, maybe Iolaus was right... maybe he'd have to do something to discourage her attentions. But, she was such a sweet kid...he hated to hurt her feelings. After all, it didn't hurt to be pleasant...and they wouldn't be staying long.

_'Tica smiled serenely back into Hercules' eyes. He'd been so attentive, listening to all she'd said, clearly so interested that he had not tried to interrupt or change the subject...and his smile was so full of love. He'd be happy when they were finally together, when there was nothing, and no one, between them. She gazed from time to time at Iolaus, noticing the signs....it was working, just as she'd known it would. After all, it had worked before...no one had ever suspected anything but a sad illness when her parents had died...it was their time to go...she'd done them both a favour, really. Especially her mother, freeing her from the dreary man she had married first, allowing her time with Aristos, before she too, had to go....She was doing Iolaus a favour, too...he lived for Hercules, and, when his friend wouldn't need him anymore, he'd be lost, hurt...but, with her help, he'd never have to suffer that...never know that Hercules was ready to cast him aside. _

* * *

They'd stopped briefly to eat lunches 'Tica had packed for them, and to drink cool water from a stream by the road where they'd stopped to eat. Iolaus was grateful when the journey finally approached its end toward midafternoon...much as he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, he'd been feeling worse since lunch. Gods, he really hoped he wasn't getting sick. He hated being sick. But, they were almost there...they'd come into Pyrgos a few minutes before, and Aristos was pulling on the reins to guide the oxen, to turn them past the Inn, toward the yard and outbuildings in back...and it was then they saw the scorched, blackened earth, and the remains of what had been a barn and sheds.

For a moment, Aristos could do nothing but stare at the remains of what must have been a horrific fire. There was little left, just the blackened skeleton of one corner of the barn structure, the roof and other walls having collapsed in the flames. Wisps of smoke were still rising from smoldering embers. The stench of burned wood was thick in the air. "By the gods..." he murmured in dismay.

Iolaus laid a hand on the haunch of one of the oxen and looked back up at him, sympathy clear in his eyes. "Aristos, I'm sorry...it looks like it must have burned last night...."

Aristos just nodded, hearing dimly 'Tica's cry of surprise as their wagon pulled into the yard behind his own. Then, one of his neighbours, Stanos, was jogging over from his forge, to greet him. "Aristos! Gods, man, I'm sorry you have to come home to this...she just burned down in the middle of the night...by the time we noticed the fire, it was too late to stop it! It's a good thing, I guess, you were gone, so there was no livestock in the barn when she went up....but, I am sorry, my friend."

Aristos looked down at the stocky blacksmith, nodded in acceptance and gratitude for the sympathy. Sighing, he stood and jumped down from the wagon. "Was there no sign of what started it?" he asked.

Stanos shook his head, but then looked up into Aristos' eyes. "No...nobody saw naught..." he sighed, then continued, "but, Morgon and his lot were in town last evening, strutting about as usual....but, no, there's no proof it was them...."

Hercules had helped 'Tica down from their wagon, and now they and Iolaus stood close behind Aristos listening. "Morgon!" 'Tica cried, anger clear in her voice. "That good for nothing...this would be just like him....Damn him!"

"Who's Morgon?" Hercules enquired, this disaster having effectively distracted him from his concerns about Iolaus, who stood staunchly at his side, hands on his hips, wondering as well who the man was, and why he might have burned down the barn and outbuildings.

Aristos wearily waved a hand, "I'll explain it to you later, Hercules...for now, we need to get these wagons unloaded."

Herc frowned, ready to push for more information, but Iolaus just laid a quiet hand on his arm, and shook his head. Something was very wrong here...and Aristos needed time to get his balance back. Turning, Iolaus went to the back of the first wagon, and began to unload it. Following his example, Hercules started on the second wagon. Stanos stayed to help, and within a couple of hours, everything had been stored under canvas to the side of the burned out area, all but the goods which belonged back in the inn, like the blankets, pillows and cooking utensils and ingredients, and the oxen had been released into a small, fenced paddock next to the burned out shell of the barn.

Aristos waved them all into the cool dim tavern in the front of his inn, and poured out mugs of ale. They gathered around a table near the bar, while 'Tica put together the kitchen and prepared dinner. Aristos always cooked when there was a crowd, but increasingly, she had been taking on the private meals for the last couple of years. "So, Aristos," Hercules said, turning to his friend, "what's this all about?"

Aristos and Stanos exchanged glances. Stanos shrugged, then picked up his mug and took a long swallow. Aristos nodded, as if to himself, then turned to Hercules and Iolaus. "Morgon moved into the area about a month ago, him and his gang of cutthroats. He has aspirations of getting rich on the labour of others. About two weeks ago, he strutted into the tavern, here, and told me he wanted me to pay him 'protection money'."

"'Protection money,' Iolaus repeated with a frown, "what's that?"

Aristos grimaced in irritation. "It's money he wants us to pay him to protect us from trouble...as if we had any trouble before he arrived in Pyrgos!"

Hercules gazed at Aristos. "And, you refused?"

"Of course I refused! I wasn't going to let some no good swine intimidate me!" blustered Aristos.

"So...he burned down your outbuildings...to prove you need 'protection'?" Herc continued thoughtfully.

Aristos sighed. "Yeah...that's what it looks like...he'd said I'd be sorry....I just never imagined he'd actually do something like this...."

Iolaus had been drumming his fingers on the table, his anger growing. "If it was this Morgon, he's likely to be back soon, to again offer 'protection' for a price...." Iolaus looked over at Hercules, and saw his anger, and his determination to stop these bandits, reflected in Herc's azure eyes.

"And, we'll be waiting...." Hercules murmured, with a nod.

Aristos and Stanos both looked up at the tone in the heroes' voices. There was an edge of anger, overlaying the sound of determination...and a promise to take care of the bandits for the town.

Aristos shook his head. "No Hercules, Iolaus...no. I can't burden you with my troubles...we'll handle this," he said, glancing at Stanos, who looked less certain. This was a peaceful town...the people who lived in it weren't warriors, weren't equipped to fight armed and dangerous men.

Iolaus grinned at that. "Ah, Aristos, don't hog all the fun to yourself! You'll hurt our feelings!"

Hercules chuckled. "Iolaus is right, Aristos...we're not about to stand aside and let some warlord wannabe intimidate this town." But then, he continued more seriously, "If you, and Stanos, and others, are prepared to work with us, we can help you deal with them...bring them to justice."

"Justice, yeah...unless they force us to more drastic action," murmured Iolaus. In his experience, some might eventually stand before a magistrate...but some would die before that happened.

Herc cast him a sidelong look, but any remark he might have made was cut off by Stanos' willing acceptance of their offer to help. "You're serious?" he asked, the hope clear in his voice, "You'd really help us?"

When the heroes nodded with a smile of reassurance and commitment, Stanos relaxed for the first time since they had met him. "Thank you," he said simply, as he stood, "I'll be off to tell the others in town...maybe we could all meet back here later this evening, and you could tell us what we need to do?"

Herc and Iolaus looked at Aristos, who nodded, also more grateful than he liked to admit for the offer of help. "Sure, Stanos, have everyone come by after dinner." Stanos grinned and left the inn, eager to take the good news that Hercules and Iolaus were in town...and that they would deal with Morgon and his lot.

Aristos looked at his friends, a chagrined look on his face. "I'm sorry...when I invited you here, I didn't think...."

"Don't worry about it," Iolaus cut him off, with a negligent wave of his hand. "In the meantime, we can help you rebuild your barn...give us something to do. Right, Herc?"

"Right, buddy!" Hercules agreed, as he lifted his mug. "To friends!" he toasted, then drank. Aristos and Iolaus echoed his toast, then tilted their own mugs.

'Tica had come in, just at the end of the conversation, and heard Iolaus say they would help rebuild the barn, and that both of them would help fight off Morgon. She quietly set out the pottery bowls, filled with a succulent stew, and set a loaf of bread in the centre of the table.

_'Thank you! Thank you!' she whispered to the Fates in her mind. Her one worry had been that something would drag them away....Hercules was always so concerned about others, he would never deny a request for help...that's why he'd only ever been able to stay a day or two at a time whenever he'd visited...he was so brave, so selfless...she'd known he'd hated to go...but, he also knew she understood. And, the next time he left, she'd be going with him...they'd never be apart again. But, she needed them to stay this time long enough to ensure Iolaus sickened and died..not like the times before, when they had left before the antimony had time to work it's magic. But, it would take a week, maybe even two, to restore the barn....it would take days just to cut down and split enough lumber! She only needed a week.... _

_She smiled at Iolaus, grateful to him for understanding they had to stay, for suggesting they linger to build the barn. He was a partner in her plans, even if he didn't quite realize it...he was a willing sacrifice on the altar of her love. She promised herself to remember him fondly, to tend his grave, and to plant flowers upon it, in gratitude for all he was doing to ensure Hercules stayed with her...wasn't drawn away by circumstance. And, Morgon was an unwitting accomplice, too...in the past, they'd left to answer some summons or other to deal with bandits in other places... but, this time, the bandits had come to them. _

_It was all a complex, beautiful puzzle the Fates had constructed to fulfill her destiny.... _

Iolaus hardly more than picked at his dinner. His throat was bothering him, and he felt the twinge of cramps in his belly. He sighed silently with impatience. This was no time to get sick! Well, he'd have an early night...no doubt, he'd feel better by morning. Hercules noticed his partner didn't seem to have his usual appetite and frowned. He'd have to get Iolaus to tell him what was wrong later. 'Tica noticed, as well, also feeling impatience. If this was going to work, he had to eat. But, then, she comforted herself. There was time. There was plenty of time.

They had finished the meal, and Hercules had helped 'Tica clear the table, just as men from the town arrived in groups of two or three, until there were thirty men in the tavern. Aristos welcomed them, ensuring all had mugs of ale before he began. "My friends...thank you for coming. I know you've all met Hercules and Iolaus when they've visited before, so there's no need for introductions." He paused a moment gathering his thoughts, then continued. "We've all been treated to Morgon's offer of protection, and I won't ask if any have paid him...but, we can't let him intimidate us. Villains like him never get enough, and he'll just bleed us dry. We have to stand up to him and his gang...fight them, if need be. Hercules and Iolaus have offered to help us...and we all know the good they've done helping other towns and villages fight off similar threats. I'm grateful for their help." He paused again, then turned to Hercules, "My friend, what do we need to do?" Aristos, an old soldier, had a fair idea of how to deal with Morgon, but he knew his friends and neighbours saw him as an innkeeper...they would take guidance better from an acclaimed hero...and he was content to yield leadership to Hercules.

Herc stood to face the gathering. "Thank you for coming to hear what we have to say. I know threats like this can be frightening. You have families to protect, and it's only natural if some of you have decided the price for peace is worth paying. But, Aristos is right. Morgon, and men like him, are never satisfied. If you don't stop him now, he will destroy you and this town." Hercules paused a moment, to look at each man there. "Iolaus and I can help you, if you'll let us. We can teach you how to protect yourselves...and we will stand with you against Morgon and his gang. If we work together, we can defeat them...I can promise you that."

There was a long silence while the men considered his words. It was true, some had paid out hard earned dinars in fear, hoping to buy safety. But, in their hearts, they knew Aristos and Hercules were right...it would never end. One by one, they looked at one another and nodded. Finally, Stanos spoke for all of them, "We'll do as you say, Hercules...we'll learn from you, gratefully...and we'll face down these animals. You just tell us what we need to do."

Herc looked at Iolaus, who nodded, then responded. "Good...it takes courage to stand up to evil. Tomorrow, we'll begin. It won't take us long to teach you how to protect your town and your families. And, we have also promised to help Aristos rebuild his barn, so, after we've worked together tomorrow morning, some of us will go to the forest to cut the timber needed, while others of us remain here, alert, ready for Morgon when he comes."

There was a murmur of general agreement...of course, they were ready to help Aristos, it was what friends in towns and villages did for one another. There was a scrape of chairs and stools on the planking of the floor as men stood and, one by one, they came to clasp arms with Hercules and Iolaus, to seal their agreement, to signal their commitment to stand together, and then they drifted back into the night.

Frankly, Iolaus was glad to see them go...he felt...weak, somehow. His throat was raw, and the metallic taste was back, and the increasingly severe cramps in his abdomen suggested he might want to visit the latrine in the very near future. Swallowing with difficulty, he slowed his breathing, determined not to let the others know how truly awful he felt. He was _not_ going to get sick, and that was that! Standing, he stretched and faked a yawn. "Well, I think I'll call it a night, if you don't mind...too much excitement these last few days! I'll see you all in the morning," he said with forced cheerfulness, evading Herc's eyes, then turned to head out of the room. He'd picked up enough of Herc's sidelong looks to know his friend had spotted his lack of energy, but he didn't want to discuss it. He'd be better in the morning.

Herc frowned slightly, watching Iolaus leave, and was about to follow him, when 'Tica came back in from the kitchen, and sat beside him, laying a hand on his arm, demanding to know the details of what had been decided. Of course she'd be interested...the threats of the bandits had to worry her badly, no matter how matter of fact she tried to act. Hercules admired her spunk, and stayed to tell her about the meeting, while Aristos went off to settle the oxen for the night.

So much for deciding he wasn't going to get sick. Iolaus had barely staggered up the staircase, when his belly clenched and he knew he had to get outside, now. Stumbling down the hallway, he turned into the back stairway, which led out into the yard. Barely making it around to the darkened corner of the inn, Iolaus staggered to his knees, one hand pressing into his abdomen wishing he could tear out the jagged, ripping agony which burned through him. He braced his other hand on the ground, as leaning forward, he gagged and retched, desperate with the need to expel everything in his stomach. Finally, gasping, he rolled over on his side, both arms wrapped around his body. Gods...what was wrong with him?

* * *

Dawn was just breaking the next morning when Iolaus woke. He blinked, wondering for a moment where he was, then remembered he was in his usual chamber in Aristos' Inn. He gazed around the comfortable room, admiring the fine wood of the wardrobe and small cabinet which boasted a finely wrought porcelain jug and bowl. The window was wide, and lace curtains billowed in the early morning breeze. He stretched, enjoying the decadence of the feather bed. Aristos' Inn was definitely one of the best he had ever stayed in!

The memory of his sickness the night before came back and he grimaced. Tentatively, he took inventory... swallowing, he decided his throat was better, and there were no cramps this morning. Gods, whatever it was, he sincerely hoped it was over. He rolled from the bed and pulled on his pants, and boots. Definitely better. Good. He splashed his face and body with water from the jug, and dried himself with a soft linen cloth. Shrugging into his vest, he left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. He was starving... always a very good sign!

When Iolaus entered the large, bright kitchen, he found 'Tica was already up, beginning to prepare the ingredients for the day's fare. She was grinding white tartar, and looked up in surprise when he wished her a happy, "Morning, 'Tica! You're up early!"

She recovered and smiled back, leaving off the grinding and moving the small bowl to a counter, out of the way. "Morning, Iolaus! Yes...it's early to rise, I'm afraid, to get all the work done that an inn requires! Ah, to be a lady of leisure," she sighed, but her eyes were laughing, and there was a charming dimple accompanying her teasing grin. "So, are you ready for breakfast?" she asked brightly, reaching for a loaf of bread.

Iolaus nodded, "Aren't I always?" She laughed with him. Ah yes, she was glad of his appetite. "I've some yogurt and honey, apples, some bread and ale...will that suffice?" she asked.

"Sounds good...but, you know, I think I'll just start with the apples," Iolaus replied, reaching into the basket of fruit on the work table between them. He was wary of his digestion, and suppressed a twinge of impatience at the worry...where was his castiron stomach when he needed it? Nevertheless, he wasn't sure a bowl of rich yogurt was the best idea, not until he was certain whatever bug he'd caught was out of his system.

"That's hardly enough nourishment for the day you have planned!" 'Tica protested. "Hercules told me the two of you will be working with the townsmen this morning...and then you're heading off to cut down trees this afternoon. You'll need more than a couple of apples to keep you going!"

Iolaus grinned at her, warmed by her concern. "Tell you what," he replied, "why don't you pack some bread and cheese, some fruit and whatever else is handy for me to take along when we head to the forest...no doubt, I'll work up quite an appetite out there!"

Mollified, she relented. "Well, alright...if you're sure...I don't want you fading away from hunger! It wouldn't be good advertising for the Inn!"

Iolaus chuckled, "Don't worry...I won't fade away...I promise!" Biting into the apple, he saluted her, then went out the back to examine the remains of the barn, to get a sense of how much lumber they would need to cut.

_'Ah, Iolaus, Iolaus...you think you won't fade away...but, sadly, I'm afraid you will,' 'Tica thought as she went back to grinding the antimony crystals. They stocked them at the Inn for people who needed a strong emetic...it wasn't needed often, to be sure, but the occasional need was enough to explain why she always kept some on hand. Such pretty little crystals, like flowers...like the flowers she'd plant on his grave. _

_Smiling dreamily, she planned out Iolaus' packed lunch. She'd baked a special loaf, just for him, with some of her special ingredients...it was stored in the back of the cupboard, so that no one could accidentally help themselves to it. She'd sprinkle just a small bit of antimony onto the cheese and sliced apples she'd prepare for him. Not too much...it never took much. So little, in fact, no one ever noticed it...never knew what made them ill....She hummed happily as she worked. _

* * *

The sun had not yet reached its zenith when Hercules and Iolaus decided they had worked the townsmen enough for one day. They'd sorted out who knew how to handle weapons, and who didn't. They'd coached those who did, to sharpen their skills and to build their confidence. And, they worked with those who didn't, organizing them into a watch brigade, explaining how to erect quick barricades, using wagons, barrels, and crates, to protect buildings or to block streets in order to trap or herd their enemies in a given direction or place. They'd also gleaned more details about Morgon and his gang. Apparently, there were only twenty of them...so few that Iolaus and Hercules could handle them with little extra help.

Hercules had watched Iolaus at first, worried about how pale he'd been the night before, but his friend's evident energy and good humour eased his anxiety. Whatever had been ailing Iolaus seemed to have disappeared. Taking a few minutes to talk together while the townsmen were engaged in their tasks, Herc and Iolaus decided it was probably safe for them both to head out to the forest...Morgon was likely to come later, with the night. It was always more intimidating to appear from out of the darkness, than it was to threaten in the clear light of day, when there were lots of other people around. Predictable, so predictable... they'd come to understand the ways of outlaws over the years, and to anticipate their actions.

So it was that the two heroes, with Aristos, Stanos and several of the other men, accompanied a team of oxen drawing the largest wagon out of the town, and to the forest, a mile away. Iolaus had hitched a ride on the back of the wagon, his legs dangling, as he fished in the lunch sack 'Tica had prepared for him, touched by her care in having sliced up the apples so prettily, and having chosen a nice variety of cheeses. Thoughtfully, 'Tica had prepared similar sacks for the others, too, so all munched contentedly as they walked or rode the short distance.

At the forest edge, the men all took axes from the bed of the wagon, and set about cutting down the tall, sturdy trees they'd need for support beams for the barn. With so many, it didn't take long, and they were all used to moving such large logs of wood, chaining them to the back of the wagon, to haul them back to the inn. Finishing that, they began cutting down smaller trees, which would be split for planking, for the walls, stalls and loft. They'd cut quite a stack by the time the sun began to sink into the sea to the west of them. Leaving the wood stacked, they headed back to town. Tomorrow, they'd return to cut more, and to begin splitting the logs into planks.

All afternoon, Iolaus cursed to himself, and hid his discomfort. Damn, he'd been feeling so good that morning...but, he'd hardly finished eating when the sharp metallic taste was back, bringing the raw throat with it...and the wretched cramps. 'Damn, damn, damn!' he'd thought, as he swung his axe, feeling it bite deeply into the trunk he was attacking. By the time they'd finished for the day, he felt like a rag, all wrung out. But, he hid his discomfort well, concentrating on his breathing to quell the nausea which threatened to overwhelm him, and clambered up onto the back of the wagon to ride back, trying not to wrap his arms around his stomach, to press back against the jagged, tearing pain. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand and pushed his fingers through his unruly curls. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' he thought in dismay. Whatever it was, it hadn't just gone away.

Herc noticed that Iolaus seemed a bit pale again, and determined to speak with him once they were back at the inn. It wasn't like Iolaus to be so quiet...he clearly wasn't feeling well. He'd noticed Iolaus was slowing down as the afternoon had worn on, but whenever he'd tried to catch his buddy's eye, Iolaus was looking somewhere else. What was wrong with him, anyway?

But, when they got back, 'Tica was waiting. She asked Hercules to go to the town well, to fill up two large buckets for her. Glad to be of help, he swung up the buckets and headed to the square in the centre of town. By the time he'd gotten back, it was time for dinner.

Iolaus had to swallow hard. Just the smell of the food 'Tica had set out for them turned his stomach. And, there was no reason for it...it all looked delicious. He just wasn't hungry. However, at her look of dismay at his lack of appetite, he forced himself to eat some of the soup and a little of the rabbit stew she'd prepared, knowing how much he liked it. But, his throat felt raw, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep the food down...or if it would just flow through his body with unsettling speed, forcing him to hurry again to the latrine. Gods...this was no time to get sick. There was a barn to build...and bandits to deal with.

They had barely finished the meal, when the door of the inn crashed open. A tall, heavily muscled man in worn brown leather, a sword in a scabbard hanging from his belt, strode into the room, his great size making the space feel small. Several swarthy, tough looking types followed him, standing silently behind him, grinning in evil anticipation of the evening's entertainment.

Aristos stood, directing 'Tica silently back to the kitchen. Reluctantly, she slipped away as Hercules and Iolaus rose to stand on either side of Aristos. They needed no introduction to know this was Morgon.

"Get out," Aristos ordered quietly.

"Now, now...that's scarcely hospitable...you'll never keep customers with that attitude," Morgon replied with irritating condescension. "This is a tavern, and inn...anyone is welcome here."

Aristos shook his head, "No, Morgon...you and your lot are not welcome. Leave, before there's trouble."

Morgon looked over his shoulder at his men, feigning dismay. Looking back, he glanced appraisingly at the two men standing on either side of Aristos. This might be fun. "And, here I'd come to offer sympathy for the fire you suffered the other night...I guess you were away...at the Games, was it? Wish we could have seen them! But, it really is too bad about your barn...."

"Maybe you didn't understand, Aristos has asked you to leave," Iolaus responded quietly, his thumbs hooked in his belt.

"Oh, I heard him, shorty...and who might you be?"

"A friend," Iolaus replied tightly, choosing to ignore the insult.

"Ah...and you," Morgon asked, turning to Hercules, "are you also a friend of Aristos?"

"That's right. My name is Hercules, and that's Iolaus. Look, it's late...there's no need to start trouble... Aristos has politely asked you to leave...and I suggest you do...leave the inn and leave the town."

_Hercules_. Morgon's eyes narrowed...he hadn't expected this. Nor was he prepared to take on a demigod tonight. Nodding, he replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hercules...you've quite the reputation as a hero of Greece. It's an honour, really." Turning his gaze back to Aristos, he concluded, "Alright, we'll go for now...but, you know we'll be back in a day or two to talk a little business...until then...." With a last smirk, Morgon turned and led his men into the darkness. As they left, he heard Hercules say quietly, but clearly, "We'll be waiting...."

Iolaus sighed a little when the bandits turned to leave. He'd been prepared to fight, sorta wished they had, to get it over with, but was glad they hadn't needed to...not the way he was feeling. Gods, he had to lie down before he collapsed. "Well, sounds like we have a few days to work on the barn...good!" he said, knowing his voice was husky as he spoke past the sharp rawness of his throat. "Well, since we'll probably be up at dawn again, I think I'll turn in... 'night!" he said brightly, and left the room without looking back, pretending he hadn't heard Herc call his name. Not now...he couldn't talk now...he had to get to the latrine...quickly.

* * *

When Iolaus woke the next morning, he felt a little better, but not much. His sleep had been disturbed by recurring leg cramps. Not bad, really...but, enough to wake him up and force him to stand, until the muscles relaxed again. Whatever this 'flu was, it was more than annoying...and it was hanging on. How many days had it been, now? Sighing, he wasn't sure. Ah well, lying around wouldn't make it better. There was work to do. Rolling slowly, stiffly, out of bed, he swallowed against the sore throat, and dragged on his clothes. Gods, it was going to be a long day.

By the time he got down to the kitchen, Hercules and Aristos were already there, halfway through their breakfast of hot oats, honey and bread. Iolaus swallowed against the nausea he felt. "Morning," he greeted them, taking a chair and picking up an apple from the basket in the middle of the table, wondering if he could force it down.

"Morning!" they greeted him in unison, and 'Tica brought a bowl of oats to place before him.

"Ah, thanks, 'Tica...but, I'm not very hungry," he said, sliding the bowl a little away. He really didn't think he could even look at it.

Herc looked up and frowned, noting the pallor. But, 'Tica was the one who commented first. "No? Why, Iolaus, I'm going to soon think you don't like my cooking!" she pouted prettily, but then, as she gazed at him, a concerned look came into her eyes and she laid a hand lightly on his shoulder. "What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm fine...really...just not very hungry. Don't worry...I plan to work up an appetite out in the forest, splitting logs...you'll see...I'll be more than ready for dinner tonight," he assured her, forcing a grin, refusing to look at Hercules.

But, his friend was not to be avoided. "You sure, Iolaus...you look a little pale...."

"I'm fine," Iolaus replied, standing. "I'll go hitch up the team, and when you're ready, we'll go." He was sorry to sound so abrupt, but his head was pounding and he had to get away from the sight and smell of the food, before it made him gag.

He was halfway across the yard when 'Tica caught up with him. "Iolaus!" she called, causing him to pause and turn back toward her. "I made you a lunch," she said, handing him a small linen sack.

'She really is a thoughtful kid,' Iolaus thought, as he smiled a little wanly, and took the sack from her hand. "Thanks, 'Tica...I appreciate it." He touched her cheek lightly in gratitude, then turned and headed toward the small paddock, to round up the oxen and hitch them to the wagon.

_'Poor, poor man,' 'Tica thought, as she watched him go, 'he really does look ill...but, it won't be much longer now...I really don't want him to suffer for too long. He's nice, really, in his own way...and so determined to keep helping, even when it's clear he just wants to collapse into a little ball. I wish I could tell him, help him understand why this is necessary...but, I can't. He doesn't know it's his time, and he might fight back...no, I can't tell him...poor man....'_

Hercules had followed 'Tica out of the inn, his own lunch sack stuffed into his shirt. He absentmindedly touched her shoulder as he walked past, determined to speak with Iolaus before they were once again surrounded by other people. Climbing the fence into the paddock, he jumped down, and strode over to Iolaus, who was looping a halter over one of the oxen.

"Iolaus...."

"I'm fine, Herc...don't fuss...." Iolaus cut him off, remained turned away, fiddling with the halter.

"You're not fine...I can see something's wrong. You've been fighting off something for days now...what is it?"

Iolaus sighed, then turned to face his friend. "It's nothing...just a sore throat and a little nausea. Really, it's not serious...don't worry about me."

Hercules could see fine beads of sweat on Iolaus' brow. He reached out to touch his friend's forehead, but Iolaus flinched away. "Will you let it go?" Iolaus snapped, getting annoyed.

Herc frowned at him for a moment. "Maybe you should stay here today...rest...."

"No, I'm fine," Iolaus insisted as he turned to lead the oxen out of the paddock, handing a second halter to Hercules. "Bring the other one, would you, Herc? It's time we were on our way."

Hercules watched him go, wanting to argue, knowing it was pointless...there was no one more stubborn than Iolaus. If he was determined to go to the forest, there would be no stopping him. Herc turned to get the other oxen, resolved to watch his friend, and force him to take it easy, if it looked like he was getting worse.

* * *

Others from the town joined them on the way out into the country. With so many, it didn't take long to fell the remaining needed trees, and soon, they were stripping the limbs, and splitting the logs into planks. Iolaus was glad to find he felt a bit better as the morning progressed...he was sweating, to be sure, but it was a healthy sweat, born of hard work in the growing heat of the day, not the sickly, clammy feeling he'd had that morning. They broke at midday, to eat whatever they'd brought with them, slaking their thirst with water from the bags they'd all carried over their shoulders. Then, some went back to splitting logs, while others began to load planks into the wagon.

It was about midafternoon, when Herc looked up from the log he was working on, and looked around the countryside. He'd suddenly had a feeling of being watched. Glancing over at Iolaus, he could see his friend had sensed the same thing. Iolaus was standing, looking back into the forest, absentmindedly rubbing his sore throat. Suddenly, he yelled, "Ambush!" and hefted his axe, wishing he had his sword.

Herc turned to the forest, just in time to catch an arrow that had been speeding toward him. "Take cover," he yelled to the others, who had been standing stunned for a moment, caught by the unexpected attack, but, then they were moving, some taking refuge behind the wagon, others falling to the far side of the high stack of lumber. More arrows sped down upon them, Herc catching some, Iolaus rolling to the ground, away from the deadly rain. And, then, bandits were charging at them from the cover of the trees.

Iolaus had rolled back onto his feet, and used the axe to fend off a swordwielding bandit, but it was an awkward weapon for defense, and he soon abandoned it, flinging it, with deadly aim, at a man who was trying to circle around him, the axe cutting deeply into the bandit's arm. He screamed and grabbed at his injury, as Iolaus ducked another swipe of the sword by the man in front of him, spun and kicked the weapon from his attacker's hands. Continuing his spin, he whirled again, his foot catching the man on the side of the head, felling him. And, then he was rolling under the assault of another, knocking the man to the ground, where Iolaus clipped him hard with his elbow, just behind the ear.

Hercules had flung two bandits back into the woods, where they crashed high against the trees before plummeting to the ground. Picking up a third, he swung the man, as a human bludgeon, taking out three more, before he let the hapless man fly, unconscious, to the ground. Iolaus had swung himself up onto the back of a tall warrior, and slammed both elbows hard into the man's shoulders, causing him to crash to the ground. Aristos had gotten into the battle, using a tree limb as a staff, and was swinging it to good purpose, knocking one man to the ground and punching another in the stomach, winding him. Other townsmen had also joined the battle, and the advantage of surprise had been lost. Morgon, standing just inside the tree line watched the fight with disgust. He'd have to do something about that Hercules and Iolaus...between them, they were a regular army. Calling 'Retreat!' to his men, he faded back into the forest, his gang gathering themselves up to stagger after him.

Hercules and Iolaus took off after them, determined to capture Morgon, knowing if they took him, the others would lose their will to fight and would disappear if they escaped capture. They charged through the forest, leaping over thick undergrowth and fallen limbs and logs of long dead trees. Iolaus' boot caught in the tangle of brush, and he fell, hard, to the ground, unconsciously yelling in pain when he landed. But, Hercules heard him and immediately turned back, his eyes anxiously searching the forest until he spotted Iolaus curled on the ground about twenty feet behind him.

"Damn it!" Iolaus snarled in frustration, as he disentangled his leg from the thorny vines and rolled away from the undergrowth, one arm around his body, his hand pressed to his side. Hercules had loped back, and was reaching to help him up. "Why'd you stop, Herc...they're getting away!" Iolaus protested, but he was grateful for Hercules' help as he stumbled to his feet.

"Don't worry...they'll be back. We'll get him next time." Hercules noticed Iolaus holding his side, and pushed his hand away, worried when he saw blood. "What happened?"

Iolaus turned away from Herc's hand, and bent his head, twisting a little to examine his side. "Just a scratch...one of the arrows. I'm alright...just tripped over the damned bush."

Iolaus was making light of the injury, but he didn't feel good, not good at all. Ever since lunch, his throat had been so sore he could hardly swallow, and a sharp pain in his stomach had joined the ever present cramps. He felt lightheaded, dizzy...and weak. Something was seriously wrong...but, no, that was stupid, he thought, shaking his head. It was just a 'flu, nothing serious...but, maybe he should slow down a little, before he fell down. The sudden fight, and the wild run through the forest had exhausted him.

Herc had seen the sudden pallor, the clammy sweat that had broken out on Iolaus' brow, and reached out to steady his friend as he started to sway. "Iolaus?" he murmured, his worry plain in his voice.

Iolaus looked up at him wanly, his eyes slightly unfocused. He waved a hand weakly, almost helplessly, as he replied, "I'm sorry, Herc...my fault...we should have caught him....I...I just don't feel so good." Suddenly, his face contorted with pain, and he turned away, doubling over, heaving. Hercules supported him, until the spasms subsided, leaving him gasping. Herc helped him straighten up, then turned him, supporting him as they made their way out of the forest. Iolaus wiped the back of his hand across his mouth...gods, he felt weak. "Sorry, Herc," he mumbled.

Hercules looked down at his friend with considerable sympathy. "Don't worry about it, Iolaus," he sighed. "Let's just get you back to the inn...." Herc was getting worried...the violence of the attack was frightening.

Aristos and the others had tied up three of the bandits who had not been swift enough to make their escape, and were waiting by the wagon. It was as loaded as they could make it, with no more room for additional planks. When Hercules and Iolaus came out of the woods, Iolaus pulled away, insisting on walking unsupported. It was ridiculous...he shouldn't be this weakened from a simple, short brawl...and he hated being sick. Herc let him move away, but stayed within reaching distance, in case Iolaus stumbled.

When they came up to the wagon, Hercules said to the others, "I think that's enough for today...they won't be back for a while. Let's head back." The others agreed. Hercules put a light hand on Iolaus' shoulder, directing him to the front of the wagon.

"I want you to ride back," he said, looking down at Iolaus with ill concealed concern.

Iolaus sighed, wanting to resist, knowing it would be stupid. He could hardly stand. Nodding, he turned and climbed up onto the wagon's box, taking the reins to drive the oxen back to the inn, one arm crossed over his stomach, trying desperately not to double over in pain.

Hercules looked up at him, alarmed by the lack of protest. Something was wrong, seriously wrong.

The work party turned toward town, shoving their captives before them. These three, at least, wouldn't be causing any more trouble.

* * *

When they got back to town, two of the men took their prisoners to lock them in a secure storeroom until they could be taken to the magistrate in Patras, a day's journey north. The rest followed the wagon back to the inn. Hercules reached up a supporting hand to Iolaus, to steady him as he climbed down from the wagon, while Aristos and the others began to unload the planks. The men would start work on framing the new barn...they could get the support beams in place around what would be the walls, and across the top, to support a loft, before the sun set that night. Hercules had taken Iolaus into the inn, to clean his wound and to make him rest.

When Iolaus and Hercules entered the kitchen, 'Tica looked up from the soup she was stirring in the large cauldron over the fire in the hearth. Her eyes widened with alarm when she saw Hercules help Iolaus across the kitchen, easing him down onto a stool. "What happened?" she asked, in a small voice, as Herc turned to wet a linen cloth he'd picked up from counter with water from the pitcher on the table.

As he knelt and pushed Iolaus' vest out of the way, he replied, "We were attacked by Morgon's bunch...." When he heard her gasp, he looked up quickly, with a slight smile of reassurance. "Don't worry...we won," then he turned his attention to washing the blood from the superficial wound just under Iolaus' ribs.

'Tica straightened and moved to stand beside them. "Oh, Iolaus...you're hurt!" she cried softly, kneeling and taking his hand, as she looked up into his pale, painfilled face, worry clear in her eyes. "I'm so sorry..."

He managed to grin back at her, wanting to reassure her. "It's not serious, 'Tica...just a scratch...." but, he had to stop, his throat too sore to talk, his stomach rebelling at the smell of the soup simmering over the fire. He swallowed painfully, and tried to breathe slowly, to centre himself and fight down the nausea, closing his eyes against the sudden feeling of dizziness.

She held his hand tightly, and reached with her other hand to brush back the damp curls from his forehead. "You're sick," she said, concerned.

Iolaus gave her a crooked grin, and winked teasingly, as he replied, "You think?"

"'Tica's right, you are sick," Hercules said with a no nonsense tone as he finished cleaning the wound. "This doesn't look serious...."

"Told ya," murmured Iolaus, cutting him off.

"_But_, you are going upstairs to bed...and you're not getting up for the rest of the day," Hercules continued firmly.

"Okay," agreed Iolaus, feeling too awful to protest. He sighed as he contemplated trying to climb the stairs on his own...he wasn't too sure he could stand, let alone walk...and the room was spinning around him. He raised his eyes to Herc's, level with his own since Hercules was still kneeling beside him. "Maybe...you could...tuck me in...." he whispered.

Herc's eyes darkened with distress. He could read the fear in Iolaus' eyes...his partner didn't think he could make it upstairs on his own...and he was ashamed to ask for help. "Sure thing, buddy," Hercules replied, trying for a light tone, as he stood and helped Iolaus to his feet.

As Herc supported Iolaus out of the room, 'Tica called, "I'll make some honeyed tea...it'll help you feel better....I'll bring it right up...."

"Thanks," mumbled Iolaus, too tired to protest, as they moved into the dim hallway.

_'Tica's lips curled into a smile of satisfaction as they disappeared from view. Wonderful! He could hardly stand on his own.. the pain was getting worse, and the dizziness had begun. She'd seen the concern in Hercules' eyes, the gentle way he helped his friend, and she was glad Iolaus was suffering...he deserved to suffer for coming between her and the man she loved. He deserved to feel pain, lots of pain...and he would, she reflected, as she turned to pour hot water over dried herbs she'd placed in a mug. She added the honey, as she'd promised, but she also added small flakes of antimony to season the drink...yes, the pain was only beginning...he couldn't imagine how much he would soon be longing for death, just to make the agony end.... _

* * *

Hercules had helped Iolaus undress and had eased him back onto the bed, pulling the blanket up over him. Iolaus was ghostly white, his skin clammy to the touch, and he moaned a little as he stretched out, one hand pressing into his stomach. Hercules perched on the side of the bed, and brushed Iolaus' hair away from his face. "You're really sick, aren't you?" he murmured.

Iolaus grinned weakly in response, "Yeah...I think I am...sorry...."

"For what? You can't help being ill...it happens...." Hercules responded in a quiet, worried voice.

Iolaus chuckled weakly, "Pirates can happen to anyone...." he whispered...it had been a joke between them since the Academy days, when Iolaus had gone 'undercover' on a pirate ship at the request of the King of Corinth.

"Yeah...." murmured Hercules. "Just...take it easy....you'll be fine in a day or two...."

"Sure...course I will...." he whispered, closing his eyes.

'Tica arrived then, carrying the mug of hot tea. Iolaus looked up at her with dismay. "I'm...sorry...I don't really want...."

"Shhh," she said, softly, "it'll help you sleep...." She motioned with her head to Hercules, to signal him to help raise Iolaus' head while she held the mug to his lips.

"'Tica's right, Iolaus...drink some of it at least," Hercules encouraged him.

Giving up, giving in, Iolaus took a few sips of the sweet herbal tea, but then turned his head away. "Thanks," he murmured as Hercules eased his head back down onto the pillows. The room had started to spin again, so Iolaus closed his eyes to blot it out...and slipped into sleep.

"I'll stay with him awhile, if you want to go out to help the others with the barn...I could hear them hammering out back," she suggested softly.

Hercules was torn...he wanted to stay with Iolaus, but there really wasn't anything he could do that 'Tica couldn't...and he should go to help the others. He sighed and nodded as he stood. "Alright...but, call me if he needs me...."

"Don't worry, Hercules...I'll take care of him....Iolaus will be fine...." she reassured him gently.

He smiled down into her lovely, clear eyes, touched by the kindness and concern she had shown Iolaus. "Thanks, 'Tica...I'll feel better knowing you're watching over him," he said warmly, as he rested a hand on her shoulder before leaving the room.

_'Tica stood gazing down at the unconscious man, and her smile faded, the concern in her eyes giving way to a cold hostility. 'Oh yes, I'll take care of him,' she thought, "I'll take very good care of him....' _

* * *

Iolaus woke briefly a couple of times...and each time, 'Tica forced a little more tea into him. Too sick to understand, he'd caught the cold look in her eyes, but thought he'd only imagined it, when she smiled gently at him, carefully supporting his head as she tipped the mug to his mouth. The pain was knifing through his belly, and he could hardly swallow past his inflamed throat. He curled away from her, just wishing she would go away, leave him alone. He felt...something wrong...she...wrong...but, he drifted away again, gratefully reaching for the darkness which shielded him from the agony which burned through his gut.

When he woke again, it was dark, with just the dim light of a candle flickering in the room. Gods, he felt awful. Hercules was sitting by him, on the edge of the bed and, when he saw Iolaus was awake, he lifted a mug of tea 'Tica had prepared, and gently raised his partner's head to help him drink. Iolaus tried to refuse, "No...don't want...." but Hercules soothed him, urging him to take some. "You need fluids, Iolaus...come on...just a little."

Iolaus was too weak to resist, and drank some of the lukewarm tea, grimacing as he swallowed it past a throat that felt as if it was lined with razors. Herc had barely laid his head back down, when he twisted sharply, curling his body to try to ease the dagger of pain which shot through him. He moaned in misery, wondering if he'd ever feel well again. Hercules watched him, with a growing sense of fear. He'd never seen Iolaus collapse so completely from a simple infection. Gods, he hoped it wasn't some kind of plague. He murmured soothingly to Iolaus, as he rubbed his partner's back, wishing there was something more he could do to help.

Iolaus stiffened suddenly, rolling onto his back, his face grimacing in pain as he hissed past gritted teeth. "What? What is it?" Herc asked urgently.

"My legs...cramps...." Iolaus grated, fighting the relentless pain. Hercules threw back the blanket and pressed one hand against the sole of Iolaus' foot, while his other hand gently kneaded his partner's calf...when he felt the muscles relax, he tended to the other leg. Iolaus sighed as the pain eased. He laid back on the pillows, his eyes darting around the darkened room, until they came to rest on Hercules. Iolaus reached out a hand, which Hercules clasped in his own, while with his other, he reached to brush the sweat from Iolaus' brow, pushing the damp curls back from his face. Iolaus gripped Herc's hand hard, drawing his eyes back. "I'm...scared...." Iolaus whispered, fighting tears. He felt as if he was dying, and he didn't know why....

Hercules gripped his partner's hand, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "You're going to be alright, Iolaus...you're going to be fine...." he murmured back, desperately afraid. Iolaus' face was gray, his skin clammy, his hands and feet had a bluish tinge, as if he was in shock. Pain filled his eyes, and Hercules felt helpless, useless...unable to ease his partner's torment. Not knowing what else to do, he again supported Iolaus' head, urging him to take more of the tea...he had to keep Iolaus taking fluids at least...his buddy needed something to help fight whatever was assaulting his body from within.

Iolaus laid quietly for a long time, fighting back his fear, the strange sense of despair that threatened to overwhelm him. Then, he looked at Hercules. "You should...get some rest...." he whispered, feeling guilty for being so much trouble. Herc just smiled at him and shook his head. "Don't worry about me....go to sleep, Iolaus...I'll be here if you need me...." Iolaus nodded weakly and closed his eyes, drifting off.

Hercules watched him sleep for awhile, then stood to stand at the window, looking out into the night. Suddenly, he heard Iolaus cry out and turned as his buddy threw himself from the bed, only to collapse to the floor after two steps, curled in a tight ball, moaning. In an instant, Hercules was kneeling beside him, ready to lift him back onto the bed, but Iolaus twisted violently from the pain knifing through his body.

"Sick!" he gasped, and Hercules immediately reached for the basin, holding it under Iolaus' mouth, supporting his friend's shoulders as he retched in agony. Iolaus moaned pitifully as he felt himself lose complete control, his bowels loosening, fouling the room. "Oh Gods," he whispered, in despair, humiliated by his body's weakness.

Hercules held him until the spasms passed...then quietly reached up for the jug of water and linen, moistening the cloth to clean his friend's body. Tears of shame burned in Iolaus' eyes, as he whispered over and over, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...."

"Shh, you're sick...you couldn't help it..." Hercules responded quietly, then he gently lifted Iolaus back into the bed, pulling the blanket back over him. Then, he bent to clean the floor and threw the filthy linen into the bowl he'd placed back on the small cabinet. Iolaus had curled into a tight ball, his knees pulled to his chest, trying to somehow ease the pain which ravaged his body. Herc stayed by his side, rubbing his back, murmuring quietly, massaging cramps from his legs, all through the night, until dawn finally painted the sky in the east.

'Tica came then, bearing a new cup of honeyed tea. Iolaus was sleeping when she entered the room quietly, Hercules gazing wearily at his friend's ashen features. Iolaus was looking increasingly haggard, his eyes sunken into dark circles, his face tight with pain even in his sleep. Herc looked up at her, but couldn't find words. He was too afraid, too upset at being helpless to do anything, except watch Iolaus get worse, as if the illness was burning him up, consuming his energy and flesh. The violence of his illness was terrifying.

"I'll stay with him for awhile, Hercules...you need to get some rest, my dear. You won't do him any good if you get sick too," she said quietly, her voice filled with concern and love. She was right. Hercules sighed and nodded reluctantly, too tired and distracted to notice the endearment. Standing, he murmured, "Call me if he gets worse." Then he slipped from the room, exhausted by his worry.

_The sour stench of sickness filled the room, and 'Tica's eyes flicked to the soiled linen and vomit in the basin. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent as another would the sweet perfume of spring flowers. Then, she turned to gaze down upon her charge, listening to breathing grown ragged by weakness, smiling at the clammy beads of sweat she saw clinging to his brow. When Iolaus stirred and groaned, she fixed a look of sad concern on her face, and sat by him, gently stroking his brow, waiting for him to wake. _

"Herc?" Iolaus whispered.

"Shhh...I've sent the poor man to get some sleep...he's exhausted with having sat up with you all night... cleaning up after you...."

Iolaus pressed his eyes closed at the memory, embarrassed, made guilty by her words. She raised his head, pressing the mug to his lips. "Drink, Iolaus," she encouraged, firmly, when he twisted his head away. "You need to drink this...it will help...I promise...You need to help me...you can't just lie here forever, taking all of Hercules' time, exhausting him with worry...."

Chastened, he sipped some of the hot liquid, grimacing at the pain it caused his throat, then turned his head away. He didn't want her here. He didn't know why, even felt ashamed...but, she brought him no comfort...he didn't want her near him. He curled away from her, toward the wall, hoping she'd leave him alone.

* * *

Iolaus woke again later that morning and found himself alone. Weak, disoriented, he thought he could hear the banging of hammers, as if from a long distance. The pain was still there, but muted by his weakness. He closed his eyes...he'd just rest a while more...and then go to help with the barn.

When he woke again in midafternoon, he felt somewhat more alert. Disgusted by his weakness, not wanting to give into it, he struggled from the bed and slowly got dressed. Straightening, he fought off the pain in his throat and belly, ignored his pounding head, stood and left the room, moving gingerly along the hallway and then down the stairs. It was quiet...the hammering had stopped.

He found 'Tica in the kitchen, baking. She smiled at him when she saw him leaning against the doorway. "Ah, so you're up! Feeling better?"

He summoned a wan grin, "Yeah...a little. Where's Herc...and Aristos?"

"They and the men have gone back to the forest for the rest of the lumber. They'd used up what they had here...only left a few minutes ago," she reported, kneading the dough. Looking up at him again, she asked, "Are you hungry? Would you like some soup?"

Iolaus grimaced at the thought of food. "No...thanks. I think I'll just go out back, and inspect their work," he said, trying for a light note, wanting to get away from her. He didn't understand it, but she made him nervous. There was no reason for it...she'd been nothing but kind....but, he had the oddest sense that she didn't like him....even that she hated him. It was ridiculous...must be the illness. It was making him fanciful. He pushed himself away from the wall and made his way across the kitchen to the back door. "I won't be long," he said.

_'Tica watched him go, happy to see him use up what little energy he had. If she knew Iolaus, he'd do anything to deny his illness, deny his weakness. She had no doubt that he would soon be puttering around the half constructed barn, trying to make himself useful...wearing himself out, squandering what energy he had left.... _

* * *

Iolaus looked at the new barn, amazed at the progress which had been made. Wandering inside, he saw the loft was more than half completed, but was still open to the sky...there was no roof yet. A ladder leaned against the loft floor, and he noticed that not quite all of the wood had been used up. There were still a few planks, piled loosely on the earthen floor, and others above, waiting to be hammered into place to complete the loft. He spotted a hammer, and a bucket of nails. He knew it was crazy, even as he picked up the tools and climbed the ladder...but, he needed to do something, needed to help, somehow.

Most of all, Iolaus needed to prove to himself that he was going to be alright...that he was going to get better. Because...he was afraid...desperately afraid he was dying from the mysterious illness which had taken possession of him, and he needed to fight back, the only way he knew how.

_'Tica found him there, high in the loft, hammering away. She smiled as she came fully into the barn, and started up the ladder, carrying the flask of lemonade. It was a hot day...and he was sweating from the heat and exertion, and from the poison ravaging his body. He'd be glad of something cool to drink. _

Iolaus looked up, startled, when she called to him from the top of the ladder. He hadn't heard her come in.

"Iolaus! What do you think you're doing?" she scolded, but the laughter in her eyes softened her words. "You just can't help yourself, can you...you have to be helpful, no matter how ill you feel."

He gave her a lopsided grin. It was foolish, and he knew it, but she was right. He had to help. She just laughed at him, as he shook his head and straightened, coming to meet her at the ladder. "And, what brings you up here...besides having to lecture me, I mean?" he asked playfully, ignoring the rasp in his throat and the constant burn in his abdomen.

"I thought I might find you working...and I brought you some lemonade. It's a hot day...and you need to keep drinking, especially when you won't eat anything...." she explained, holding out the flask.

He was thirsty, and grateful for her consideration. He reached out for the flask and then took a long drink, emptying it. It was cool, and slightly sour...and he was glad to quench his thirst, even if it did sting his raw throat. Finished, he handed the empty flask back to her. "Thanks, 'Tica, I needed that!" he said with a smile, his voice husky.

"Hmm...I know...well, don't stay up here too long...Hercules will not be pleased if you exhaust yourself!" she ordered, as she lowered herself back to the floor of the barn. She went to the frame of the door, and stood, watching, as he bent to pick up another piece of timber, carried it to the edge of the open space, to hammer it into place.

Suddenly, he twisted violently against the pain which knifed through him, driving him to his knees, off balance...and felt himself falling. He grabbed desperately for the edge of the loft, but the plank ripped away under his weight...he was falling, falling to crash heavily onto the loosely stacked pile of lumber he'd noticed earlier, and onto an axe left atop the lumber. The force of his landing carried him through the pile of wood, scattering the timbers, dragging across the sharp blade of the axe, which tore into his side as he crashed past. He cried out at the new, deep burning pain along his hip, moaned at the pain in his chest and along one arm...tried to twist weakly, to curl against the sharp, merciless agony in his belly...but the blackness overcame him.

_'Tica walked over and looked down on him. She saw the dreadful gash along his hip from the blade of the axe, and the awkward, unnatural bend in his left arm. Then, she turned, and walked away...leaving him there in a growing pool of blood, leaving him to go back to her baking. _

_He would die now, she could be certain of it...no more waiting. She sighed, imagining the tender moments with Hercules...his sorrow at losing his friend, feeling lost and alone. She saw herself comforting him, assuring him that Iolaus was alright now...no more pain...that it was his friend's time to go...that it was right and he shouldn't grieve so. She would pull his head against her breast, and whisper her love for him, and his arms would come around her...and he would rejoice that they had one another...finally understanding that it was better this way, better that Iolaus was gone, and would not be a tie to the past, pulling him back...that he was free now to love her, as he had always dreamed of loving her.... _

_As she kneaded the dough, she was transported by her visions of the future, certain of Hercules' love and the rightness of all that had happened...all that she had done...and, she felt a warm gratitude toward Iolaus...his death would be the final catalyst that would bring Hercules to her..._.

It was an hour later when the men returned from the forest. Aristos had sent his friends home for the day...they'd done enough, and there was always tomorrow. He unhitched the team, to lead them into the paddock, while Hercules headed into the inn, intent upon seeing Iolaus. He hadn't wanted to leave him all day...but, 'Tica had said she'd watch over him...and the others were already working on the barn when he had awakened at midmorning. He'd checked on his buddy a couple of times during the day, relieved each time to find him sleeping peacefully. Maybe the worst was over. When it came time to go to the forest to load up the rest of the timber, he'd gone, albeit reluctantly...he knew the others' could use his strength with such heavy work to do...but, they'd been longer than he liked and he needed to see that Iolaus was alright.

When he came into the kitchen, he found 'Tica pulling fresh rolls from the stone oven in the wall of the hearth. "You're back!" she said brightly.

"Yeah...how's Iolaus?"

"Why, he seemed fine the last time I saw him...he was up in the loft, hammering away!"

"_What_?" demanded Hercules, appalled, turning back to the door. He hadn't heard any hammering when they'd ridden in.

"I know, I know...but, Iolaus was determined to make himself useful...he seemed alright...." her voice trailed after him as he ran out the door and loped across the yard to the half completed barn.

_She followed him, curious to see what he'd find. With luck, the dreary man would already be cold and dead, killed by his own foolishness.... _

Hercules burst through the doorway, his eyes frantically searching the loft, but Iolaus wasn't up there. "Iolaus!" he called out, then his eyes dropped...and he saw the twisted bundle sprawled amidst the scattered lumber on the ground a few feet away...it was clear from the wreckage that Iolaus had fallen from the loft.

"Oh Gods..." he whispered as he moved to kneel beside his friend...and saw the blood spreading out around his body. His heart twisted, his breath caught in his throat as he reached to find a pulse in Iolaus' throat... and sighed when he found it...it was thready, and far too rapid, but it was there.

"Oh no!" he heard 'Tica cry behind him, as she rushed over to stand beside him. "Is he...."

"No!" Hercules abruptly answered her unspoken question. "But, he's badly hurt...get bandages and hot water...I'll need to bind up this wound." Herc ripped off his shirt and wadded it, pressing it into the torn, hemorrhaging flesh, trying desperately to stem the bleeding.

Then, he carefully checked Iolaus' body, searching for other injuries. He felt around his neck and head, finding a lump behind Iolaus' ear. He discovered the tenderness around Iolaus' ribs when his friend moaned unconsciously and flinched away...and the left arm was clearly broken. But, his hips and legs seemed intact, except for the gaping wound.

Satisfied that it was safe to move his friend, Hercules carefully pulled Iolaus into his arms, then stood to run back across the yard, into the inn. His partner had lost a lot of blood...too much blood. Damn it! What did he think he was doing? Hercules was caught between rage and terror, terribly angry with Iolaus for his stubborn willful stupidity, horrified by his grave injuries...terrified that Iolaus was already too weak from his illness to recover from these new injuries....

Aristos saw him race across the yard, Iolaus in his arms, and ran along behind. Gods, what had happened now? 'Tica followed them into the house and set about heating the water and gathering up linen rags.

Hercules laid Iolaus on his bed, and, seeing his shirt had been saturated with bright blood, he roughly bundled the sheet into a pad to press against the deep wound in Iolaus' hip, desperate to stop the hemorrhaging...Iolaus was bleeding to death. His friend moaned softly under his pressure of his hand, unconsciously trying to pull away. "Easy, Iolaus," Hercules murmured, "easy, my friend...."

Aristos arrived and kept pressure on the wound, while Hercules undressed Iolaus. Finally, 'Tica arrived with a basin of hot water and an armful of clean linen rags. Hercules dipped a rag into the water, carefully cleaned the wound, then he packed it with linen strips, binding the deep pad with a longer piece of linen he wrapped around Iolaus' body. Then, he bound the cracked ribs, and finally, gritting his teeth, he set the broken arm...wincing when Iolaus cried out in pain...and bound the arm tightly, bracing it with a short stick of wood Aristos had found somewhere. "I'll need herbs," he said quietly, "and a needle and thread... to sew up the wound once the bleeding stops." 'Tica nodded her understanding and left the room.

Having done all he could, Hercules sat on the edge of the bed, one large hand pressing tightly against the hasty dressing, adding extra pressure to stop the bleeding. Iolaus laid limp and pale, a bluish tinge around his lips and fingertips. His breathing was rough, uneven.

"What the hell happened?" asked Aristos, now that there was time to talk.

"Stupid idiot..." Hercules mumbled, staring down at his friend's pain etched face, "he was working on the loft...looks like he fell...landed on an axe...."

"Oh gods," murmured Aristos, stricken with worry for his bright, exuberant young friend...now lying so still, as if already dead. He'd been badly worried by Iolaus' illness...it was too much like the disease which had wasted away the life of his beloved wife...weakening her so quickly, causing her such pain before she finally succumbed. He hated seeing this happen to Iolaus, too...it seemed unbelievable...only days ago, Iolaus had been triumphant in the Olympic Games...and now, this....

"Aristos," Hercules asked, looking back over his shoulder at his old friend, "would you bring a jug of water...I need to get some fluids back into him...he's lost too much blood."

"Of course," Aristos nodded, striding out of the room, grateful to be able to do something to help.

The bleeding finally slowed enough for Hercules to sew up the wide gash, and redress the wound. Patiently, he forced water into Iolaus, a few drops at a time, so his friend wouldn't choke. 'Tica had brought more of the honeyed tea, but Hercules ignored it...right now, what Iolaus needed most was water, and lots of it, as much as he could swallow in his unconscious state. Iolaus moaned, his right hand moving to press upon his stomach, obviously again in great pain. At one point, his body stiffened with cramps, and Hercules massaged his legs, to relax the convulsed muscles.

The hours passed. 'Tica tried to get him to leave...to eat something...to sleep. But, he wouldn't leave Iolaus' side. She stood by him, an arm pressed around his shoulders, trying to give him comfort, ease his worry and grief. She had to sooth him, she loved him, and hated to see him suffer in fear for his friend's life. "I'm sorry, Hercules," she murmured quietly, in the hour before midnight. "But...it's his time...his pain will soon end...."

"He's not going to die...I won't let him," Hercules rasped back, stiffening under her embrace. She ran her fingers threw his silken hair, drawing it back from his face, drawing his eyes to hers. "It's alright, my love...it's meant to be....Iolaus has to die...it's his time...and he wouldn't want to come between us...."

"What?" Hercules demanded, distracted by her words...confused by them. "'Tica, what are you talking about? Iolaus wouldn't come between us...there is no 'us'."

"Shh...I know you care about him...but...it's all as the Fates ordained...as they have ordained our future together since the first time I ever saw you. I'll be here for you...you'll get over his loss...." She gazed at him with boundless love, certain he would understand, even approve of what she'd done to let them be together. "I'm sorry it hurt him...made him so ill...but, he hasn't suffered long...I didn't want him to suffer long...."

Hercules heard the words, but didn't want to believe the message which was becoming increasingly clear. He pushed her hands away, standing to look down at her. "What are you talking about, 'Tica...what have you done?"

Confused, not understanding why he was pushing her away, she explained patiently, "Only what needed to be done, my love...and you helped, didn't you...getting him to drink the tea...."

Hercules' eyes widened as he looked from her eyes to the mug on the cabinet...the mug he'd held last night to Iolaus' lips, forcing him to drink.... "The tea? What was in the tea?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, his eyes again finding hers in the flickering light of the candle burning by the bed.

"Just a little antimony...just a little at a time...." she confided, with a tender smile, her love mingled with madness in her eyes. Hercules stared at her stunned. Antimony? Gods...it was deadly....Oh gods, what had she done? Looking at the mug, he thought, 'What have I done?' Deeply shocked, he couldn't take it in...this couldn't be happening.

Mistaking his stillness and silence for acceptance, 'Tica leaned against him, reaching up to touch his face, and stood on tiptoe to kiss the hollow of his throat...but he shoved her away, revolted.

"_Poison? You poisoned him_?" he whispered in horror. Then, in his helpless fury, he caught up the mug and threw it against the wall, shattering it. "_YOU POISONED HIM_!" he raged.

'Tica cringed back, shocked by his fury. This wasn't right...this wasn't how he was supposed to act...he was supposed to turn to her for comfort, glad of her love, certain of their future together. Why was he so angry? Desperate now, she tried to make him understand. "I had to, don't you see...he was coming between us...he had to die...to set you free...I did this for you...for us....you understand, don't you, my love?" she pleaded.

Hercules pushed his hands through his hair, sickened, appalled....how could this have happened? How could he have not seen her madness, sensed what she was doing...gods...Iolaus was going to die. When she reached out to touch his arm, he flinched away. "Don't touch me," he rasped, "don't you ever touch me!"

"But, Hercules...you can't mean that...you love me...I know you love me...." Her voice was plaintive, her spirit wounded.

"No, 'Tica, I don't love you...I've never loved you....I never will...it's all in your mind...you've tried to kill my best friend for no reason...how...how could you do this?" His voice cracked at the end...oh gods...oh gods...what was he going to do? _Iolaus_....

"_No...you don't mean that...you can't mean that_...." she gasped, shocked, devastated. She looked at him then, seeing him clearly...seeing his disgust and hate, seeing his contempt for her...his complete rejection of the gift of her love....and she felt rage begin to build inside of her, crushing her heart, breaking it. "You've _lied_ to me all these years!" she hissed, lunging at him in fury, trying to scratch him with her nails, but he grabbed her wrists. "You told me you'd always take care of me!" she raged. "You lied...all lies...I hate you!" she screamed, twisting in his grip, fighting him. "_I HATE YOU_!" she shrieked, "_and, I'm glad he's going to die...horribly, in agony...glad I've killed him...glad you'll feel pain...glad you'll know you helped me poison him...you deserve to suffer...you lied to me!"_

Aristos had heard the yelling, the crash of the pottery against the wall, and had come running...only to hear her last words, to see her in a mad frenzy, struggling and shrieking, out of all control. His face paled as the significance of her words sank in. Helpless with shock, he looked at Hercules, who was hard pressed to hold her twisting body, her strength the inhuman gift of madness. They had to get her out of the room. Together, they managed to wrestle her from the room, and down the stairs to the kitchen. Aristos led the way...to the one room which could be locked in his inn, the pantry to the side of the kitchen. They would need to put her in there, until morning, and they could figure out what must be done with her.

They shoved her into the room and slammed the door closed behind her, bolted it. She shrieked and kicked against the door, calling curses upon them, calling upon the gods to strike them dead in revenge. She was completely mad.

Aristos leaned against the door, listening to her crazy ranting. "What did she mean...that she poisoned him?" he asked quietly, afraid to look into Hercules' eyes.

"She's been giving him antimony....gods, no wonder he's been so sick," Herc murmured back, pushing his fingers through his hair. 'My fault,' he thought. 'Iolaus warned me...said I should discourage her...but, no...I didn't listen. My fault.'

Turning, he headed back upstairs to be with Iolaus, to force more water into him....gods, he couldn't die...not for this...he couldn't....

Aristos sank to the floor, his hands over his face, crying in his grief...for the daughter he loved...for the friend she had been poisoning...and for his long dead wife, finally understanding what had caused her illness. 'Tica had been mad for a long time...maybe all her life. And he hadn't seen it...how could he not have seen it?

* * *

Hercules sank down on the bed beside his unconscious friend, sick with fear. He stroked Iolaus' hair back, his fingers lightly tracing along Iolaus' cheek, feeling the heat beginning to build. Fever...gods...not now...not when he was already so weak. "Gods, Iolaus...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...." he murmured in despair. "Please, you have to fight this...you have to...live...please...."

Suddenly, he heard screaming and shouting from the town, and flames lit the midnight sky, garishly lighting the room. Moving quickly to the window, he saw bandits riding by...gods, they were attacking the town...they were going to burn it to the ground. Hercules stood a moment, torn, not wanting to leave Iolaus...but knowing his friend wasn't safe, so long as those villains were rampaging through the night. They could burn the inn....

Turning from the window, Hercules bounded down the stairs shouting for Aristos. "Morgon's gang... they're here, in town....Come on...we have to fight them!"

Aristos stumbled down the hall, in response to Herc's cry, and followed the hero out into the flame filled night. Buildings were burning in the centre of town. Hercules raced after one bandit, leaping and pulling the man from his horse, slamming a fist into his face, and throwing him aside as he chased after another. Aristos bounded down the road after him.

Morgon stood in the shadows, grinning with satisfaction as he watched them go. Then he turned, and cast a speculative glance at the inn...such a pretty young thing....he thought he'd take the time to pay her a visit....

* * *

Inside the inn, 'Tica had heard Hercules' shout, heard Aristos stumble away from the other side of the door. Grinning, she fumbled along one shelf until she found the narrow strip of metal she had hidden there long years ago. Her mother used to lock her in this room...and she'd learned how to ease open the bolt with the thin blade she could slip between the door and the wall. She gave a practiced flick of the blade, and the bolt flipped up and over...and she pushed open the door. Calmly, she walked to the counter, and picked up the long, sharp carving knife she'd laid there when she'd prepared dinner hours before...a dinner no one had wanted to eat.

Gripping the knife tightly, she headed into the hall, intent upon getting to Iolaus...determined to have the satisfaction of driving the blade into his body, to watch the blood drain from him, taking his life with it. He would die, as he had always been meant to die...and Hercules would suffer for his rejection of her love. However, as she came into the main hall, and headed toward the staircase, she was startled when strong arms grabbed her, and twisted the knife from her grasp. "You won't be needing that, my pretty," Morgon whispered into her ear...and she screamed...and screamed.

Iolaus had been trying to struggle back awake. He'd heard Hercules and 'Tica...heard her screaming... didn't understand. Gods, it was hard to wake up...and for awhile, he'd let himself slip back into a dreamless sleep...but, then, he heard her screaming again, in terror. What was happening? He pulled himself up, groaning unconsciously against the pain from his hip...ribs...arm...gut.... 'Gods,' he thought, 'I'm a mess....' But, her continued screams galvanized him, and he reached deep for the strength and energy he needed to leave the room, and work his way down stairs.

He didn't at first understand what he was seeing, what was happening. The room was lit by the pulsing red of the flames burning in the town, shadows and light flickering and melding together. A large man was holding 'Tica, roughly trying to kiss her, and annoyed by her constant screams, her assailant pulled back an arm and backhanded her, driving her against the wall. Iolaus yelled in outrage as he launched himself at the man, spinning and kicking out, driving him back so that Iolaus could stand between him and 'Tica, who was sprawled on the floor.

"'Tica," he called out, "are you alright?" as he stood, feet apart, knees bent, arms up, ready to defend against the brute in front of him. It was Morgon...the leader of the band of outlaws. Gods...what was going on...where was Hercules?

He heard 'Tica mumble that she was fine, heard her scrambling around on the floor behind him. "Stay back, 'Tica...or get away, into the kitchen, if you can," Iolaus directed her, his voice weak but determined. She gazed up at him, smiled wildly at the back of the nude warrior, his body catching the light of the flames, and gripped the knife she had found, laying where she had dropped it.

Morgon laughed at the improbable sight before him. The short, naked guy, wrapped in bandages, looked like a strong breeze would blow him over...who did he think he was kidding, pretending to be ready to fight him, to protect the girl. "Well, shorty," he drawled, as he pulled out his knife, "you've got guts...I'll give you that."

Iolaus grinned back at him, his eyes glittering in the light of the flames. He waited for Morgon to come at him, not bothering to waste his breath with a response. He heard 'Tica scramble to her feet behind him. "'Tica," he called softly, "run and get help while I keep this fellow entertained."

With a snarl, Morgon lunged at him, and Iolaus twisted away, hearing 'Tica scream behind him as she lunged toward his back, her knife arcing down....but he'd moved too fast, so that she only grazed his arm, as her momentum, and Morgon's, carried them together, and his knife plunged into her breast. She looked at it, surprised that there was no pain, furious that he had evaded her, then she crumpled to the ground... astonished that the Fates had betrayed her.

Iolaus screamed in rage. He wheeled on Morgon, bringing his right hand down sharply to slice against the man's wrist, breaking his grip on the knife he had pulled from 'Tica's body. Iolaus spun, slamming a leg into the man's gut, doubling him over, then smashed his hand down on the back of Morgon's neck, sending him to the floor. He stumbled back, trying to get his breath, blinking to clear his dimming sight, fighting the dizziness, his hand pressing against the wound in his hip...he'd felt it tear open when he'd spun and kicked the bandit.

Morgon pushed himself back up onto his feet, his knife again in his hands. "You are a dead man," he promised, stalking toward Iolaus.

Iolaus stumbled further back, trying to maintain some space for action...but, the strength and fury spawned by his rage was fading quickly. He cast a quick, despairing look down at 'Tica's body. Gods...Morgon had killed her...he hadn't been able to save her. Morgon was moving closer, slowly, savouring the moment, the anticipation of the kill.

Iolaus found himself up against the wall, with nowhere else to go. He gathered the vestiges of his waning strength, preparing for one last desperate defense....

* * *

The town had rallied against the bandits, and men fought bravely and well, driving them off, while others grabbed buckets and, filling them at the well, ran back to the burning buildings, in a vain effort to save them. It seemed it took only moments for the town to drive off their attackers. It had been easy.

'Too easy,' Hercules thought, realizing he hadn't seen Morgon. He turned, looked back at the inn, saw a lone horse in the shadows. "Damn it!" he muttered, as he raced back down the lane. He was almost there when he heard Iolaus' shout of fury...and as he slammed into the tavern, Hercules saw Morgon cornering his friend, flames reflecting on the knife in his hand.

With a roar, Hercules lunged across the room and slammed into the outlaw, knocking him back, away from Iolaus, who sagged against the wall. Hercules spun and lashed out with a leg, knocking the knife flying, then he grabbed Morgon by the throat, smashing his fist into the bandit's face. Morgon tried to fight back, punching sharp blows into Hercules' body, then he clawed at the hand gripping his throat, slowly strangling him, desperately trying to pry the fingers loose...and Hercules hit him again. Morgon slumped, held up only by the grip Herc had around his throat. The demigod shook him once, then let him drop to the floor.

Turning, Hercules moved quickly to Iolaus' side. Iolaus reached out for him, and Hercules took his arm, steadying him. "'Tica," Iolaus whispered, his voice filled with grief, "I'm sorry...I couldn't save her...."

"What?" Hercules asked, confused. What was Iolaus talking about?

"'Tica...over there...she tried to help...had a knife...but...but Morgon killed...her...." Iolaus was fading fast, the room was spinning around him. Hercules held him tightly as he turned and saw 'Tica's body crumpled on the floor.

Aristos arrived just as Iolaus fainted. Hercules pulled his friend up into his arms, turned to face Aristos. "I'm sorry... 'Tica's been hurt...I think she may be dead."

Aristos' eyes widened in horror, as he looked frantically around the room, saw his stepdaughter on the floor. He moved to her, dropped onto his knees and pulled her over....the ugly wound left no doubt. She was dead. "No..." he whispered, grieving for the little girl he'd loved. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Hercules replied quietly, "Iolaus said she had a knife...that she tried to help...Morgon stabbed her...." Turning, Hercules carried Iolaus back up to his room.

* * *

Hercules treated the new shallow knife wound on the back of Iolaus' left arm, and rebandaged the wound on his hip which had broken open during his fight with Morgon. Cursing himself for having left Iolaus alone, he dipped linen strips into the water in the basin on the cabinet, and wiped the cool cloth over Iolaus' body...the fever had built and his partner was burning up.

Iolaus muttered, and he thrashed weakly, as he fought his way back to consciousness. Finally, he felt Hercules bathing his body and forced his eyes open. "Herc?" he whispered.

"Don't talk, Iolaus...just rest...." he directed, his voice tight with fear.

Iolaus sighed heavily, the breath ripping through his parched, raw throat. "'Tica," he murmured, distraught, "my fault..."

"No, Iolaus...it wasn't your fault...." Hercules tried to calm him.

"She was behind me...tried to keep her...safe....but, she'd found...a knife...tried to help...."

"Maybe...I don't know if she was trying to help," Hercules replied, thinking of the gash on the back of Iolaus' arm.

"I twisted away...from Morgon...she fell...on his knife....my fault...couldn't...save her...." Tears of regret, and guilt, glistened in Iolaus' eyes.

"Iolaus, listen to me...it wasn't your fault. I...I think she was trying to kill you...."

Iolaus gazed up at Hercules, certain he'd misunderstood. Herc saw the confusion in his eyes, and sighed. "Iolaus, 'Tica has been poisoning you...she...she was insane. She thought you were...in the way. That if you died, I would...stay with her...."

Iolaus tried to take it in...he blinked, trying to clear his vision. Pressing his right hand into his abdomen, against the pain which surged through his body, he tried to understand what Hercules had just told him.

Herc continued, "She might have been trying to stab you in the back, Iolaus, not trying to help you fight Morgon...I'm sorry...I guess we'll never know...."

Iolaus choked back a bitter laugh. He'd tried to protect her...and she'd been poisoning him all this time. "I'll ask her," he murmured, "when I see her in Tartarus...." The room was fading...he felt like he was falling.

Hercules was pulled back from his sorrow and regret for the tragedy that was 'Tica by Iolaus' words. "No, Iolaus!" he called, as he saw his friend slip from consciousness, "No...you're not going to die...please, Iolaus...fight!"

* * *

It had been a long, terrible night. Hercules wrung out the cloth he had been using to cool Iolaus' fevered body, and stretched with stiffness, his muscles tight with anxiety. In the early morning light, he brushed back Iolaus' hair from his flushed face, and listened to the labored breathing. He frowned, thinking back over the past week, realizing he should have noticed sooner what was happening...but, even though Iolaus had warned him, had told him to deal with it, Iolaus had also made no secret that he thought it was all hilarious...and Hercules, himself, had just been embarrassed. Gods...and now...if this cost Iolaus his life, Hercules would never forgive himself....

Hercules had done a lot of thinking as he'd cared for Iolaus through the night. With sick realization, he had finally connected Iolaus' illness with one he had witnessed five years ago...Leah, 'Tica's mother, had had the same symptoms, had died in terrible agony, her heart finally failing from the ravages of her illness. 'Tica had murdered her own mother...and then had wept after, as if her heart was breaking. How could anyone seem so innocent while harbouring such a dark madness?

Hercules' grief and guilt tore at his soul. He'd long been terrified of losing Iolaus...in the chaos of battle, or because of the fury or jealousy of some god...or to the sudden attack of some vicious, hideous monster... but he'd never imagined a monster with a sweet, pretty face and laughing green eyes...a human monster, a monster no one would have ever suspected. And the horror of it all, was that Iolaus was suffering, not because of anger, or hate, or war, or courage...but because of love...a twisted, unnatural love to be sure, but the motivation in 'Tica's mind had been love. He'd had no chance to defend himself...and, if Iolaus died now, at the hands of another mortal, there would be no reprieve, no appeal he could make to Hades, or any other god, to intervene, to restore his precious life.

But, the most bitter, painful truth, was that he was at the root of it all. 'Tica had poisoned Iolaus because of her twisted, unnatural love for _him_. If he had been honest with her, told her the truth of his feelings, he could have prevented this...it was his own cowardice, his unwillingness to deal with her infatuation which had led to her attempt to kill Iolaus. How could he ever live with that? Hercules shuddered, overcome with feelings for which he had no words. He fought back a sob which threatened to choke him, blinked against the burning tears in his eyes. His heart twisted, and there was a heavy despair, a desolation which caught in his chest, an aching deep inside. To be the cause of Iolaus' suffering and death...the anguish was more than he could bear....

In the deep of the night, he had picked up Iolaus' limp right hand, holding it between both of his. "Listen to me, Iolaus...you can't give up...you can beat this...I know you can...." Desperately, he had fought the fever all night, and had held Iolaus when he'd convulsed with pain....massaging the cramped muscles of his buddy's legs, trying to ease the agony. Time and time again, Hercules had reached for the mug of water, and gently raised Iolaus' head, tipping the mug to let a thin trickle flow into Iolaus' mouth. Slowly, and then, a little more. But, except for the patches of fever flaming his cheeks, Iolaus remained gray, his eyes sunken, his lips blue, his breathing a harsh rasp in the silence of the room. He was hanging on the edge of life...on the edge of death.

Hours ago, Aristos had come to the room. He had bound Morgon securely and left him lying on the tavern floor, and then he had carried 'Tica to her room, placing her body on the bed. He'd stared down at her for a long time, trying to understand. Trying to absorb what had happened. But, he couldn't. He'd gone then, to Iolaus' room, to offer to help Hercules. But, Herc could see the shock in his eyes, the pallor, and had insisted Aristos go to bed. He could help in the morning.

And, now, it was morning. And, Iolaus was dying. Hercules slipped to his knees beside the bed, again taking Iolaus' hand between his own. He bent his head, resting his forehead against his clasped hands, against Iolaus' small, limp hand...and he wept.

* * *

For two days, Iolaus wavered on the edge of oblivion. There were moments when he could feel Herc's hands, bathing his body, easing the agonizing cramps, could hear his friend calling him, demanding he fight...so, Iolaus fought, dragging air through his ravaged throat, grimly hanging on through convulsions of pain knifing through his belly...fought with all the strength he had left.

But, there were other moments, when he could see Charon, the hunched figure reaching out, holding out a gnarled hand, waiting for his coin. But, Iolaus didn't have the fare so Charon shook his head...but, he didn't leave...just continued to hold out his hand.

Sometimes he could hear 'Tica screaming...or laughing at him. He'd see her pretty face shining at him, only to have the smile turn to a snarl...and then, he'd see the knife in her breast...and he'd cry out, guilty for having failed her...again...and again.

Sometimes he was racing again along the track at Olympia, feeling as if he was flying, his body floating...and then he would crash to the earth in the forest, his foot caught in a bush...and, there was the pain, the constant, relentless sharp knifing agony racking his body...and the heat, he was hot, so hot....

And, he would again feel Herc's hands, the coolness of the cloth on his body...and the water Herc would force him to drink until he choked. Herc's voice...pleading with him...saying he was sorry...why? Why was Hercules sorry? Gods...if only the pain would end....

And, still, he fought, refusing to let the pain, the exhaustion, the fever win....he fought with his heart, with his spirit...all that remained to him, his body having already given all it had.

* * *

Hercules didn't sleep, couldn't eat. He bathed Iolaus endlessly, vainly fighting the fever which ravaged his partner's spent body. He changed the dressing on Iolaus' hip...but, it wouldn't stop bleeding...and finally, he drew forth his knife, heating it in the candle...and cauterized the gaping wound, sickened by the smell of burning flesh, his hearting breaking when Iolaus screamed from the pain.

Aristos came and went, silently, feeling the guilt, feeling responsible somehow for all that had happened. He'd buried 'Tica quietly in the grassy area by the paddock, and wept again for the tragedy of it all. Stanos and others offered a rough sympathy, appalled by what had happened...but, he couldn't bring himself to tell them what she'd done...that Iolaus was dying because she had poisoned him. No...they thought Morgon had killed her when she had fought him...and, maybe, it was true, he told himself...they'd never know what had been in her mind in those last moments. So, the town grieved the loss of the pretty, bright, laughing young woman...and men dragged Morgon to the magistrate in Patras...and watched when he was hung, feeling no pity...but no relief, either.

Hercules tried to comfort Aristos, as much as he could, as he fought his own abiding fear for Iolaus. Herc told Aristos that it wasn't his fault...that no one had sensed the truth...and let Aristos hold onto his belief that she had died trying to help Iolaus in the end.

But, mostly, Herc sat by Iolaus, massaging cramped muscles, bathing the burning body, supporting his friend when he arced in convulsions of pain. And, he talked, endlessly, until his voice was rough and rasping...demanding Iolaus fight, when his friend seemed to be fading...his breathing increasingly harsh and uncertain, his pulse erratic. Soothing, when Iolaus curled in pain...pleading, when he was exhausted and most afraid... and, when Hercules was in the depths of despair, he apologized, over and over...but, it never assuaged his guilt.

Hercules would have prayed, if he had thought it would do any good. But, he had no faith in the gods... they held no comfort. There was no one who could help...he was alone. So, he forced Iolaus to drink, grimly determined to wash the poison from his friend's body...and he bathed Iolaus, over and over, fighting the raging fever with the only weapon he had. For two days and two nights, he fought...pushing back his fear and feeling of helplessness. Few ever survived poisoning by antimony...but, he couldn't believe it was hopeless...he wouldn't let Iolaus go.

It was early on the third morning, in the hour before dawn, when Iolaus' breathing softened so that it was barely there. He'd stopped the weak thrashing in the grips of fever and pain the evening before, his body lacking the strength for even this faint resistance. His pulse was faint...and so heartwrenchingly slow. Hercules was close to giving up...Iolaus couldn't last much longer. He'd moved onto the bed, needing to hold his friend, needing to lend what strength he possessed to support his failing partner. So, he held Iolaus curled against his chest, his head bent to rest on his friend's hair. He felt the heat radiating from Iolaus' skin, and he swallowed past the ever present lump in his throat, no longer trying to restrain his tears of exhaustion and grief. Gods...this couldn't be happening...he couldn't bear it....

Iolaus sighed, and shifted slightly in Herc's arms. Hercules raised his head, and lifted one hand, to stroke back the damp curls from Iolaus' face.

Iolaus felt the light touch, and blinked. "Herc?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Iolaus...I'm here...." Hercules murmured, grateful to hear that voice once more.

Iolaus heard the grief, the hopelessness...and the overlay of guilt, in Herc's thick voice. Heard the tears. He shifted again, weak, restless. Hercules leaned back, supporting Iolaus with his arm and shoulder, so that he could see his buddy's face.

Iolaus looked up into his eyes, saw the pain there, and his heart twisted. He tried to smile...to give some reassurance... "Not...giving...up...." he rasped. "Not...going....to die...."

Hercules choked back the sob which rose in his throat. Gods...Iolaus was still fighting...he had nothing left... and he still wouldn't give up. Herc forced a smile, tried to believe Iolaus would make it. "How can I help, buddy?" he whispered.

"Thirsty...." Iolaus mumbled.

Hercules reached for the mug of water, and held it to Iolaus' lips...and, panting, Iolaus drank it all before sagging back weakly. "Hot..." he muttered.

Hercules eased Iolaus back down onto the pillows, and reached again for the damp rag, dipping it again in the basin of cool water...and gently wiped the cloth over Iolaus' face, along his arms and chest, cooling him, easing his discomfort.

"Thanks...." Iolaus whispered, then drifted back to sleep.

The fever finally broke just after the dawn. Iolaus woke again, and drank another mug of water, managing a weak grin. "Told ya..." he muttered, "told ya...I'd be...alright...."

Hercules smiled back, blinking back tears of relief and gratitude. "Yes...you did." Then, his lips trembled, and he pulled Iolaus into his arms, hugging him as tightly as he dared. "Gods," he whispered, "I've been so scared...."

"I know," murmured Iolaus, "but...it's alright...now." He rested against Hercules' chest, then shifted, struggling a little to be free...being comforted was fine...but, enough was enough. "You need to rest... Herc," he said... "You look...terrible...."

Hercules laughed at that, and hugged him again, then laid him back against the pillows, brushing the damp curly hair back from Iolaus' forehead. "Alright...but, just for a while....I'll get Aristos...."

Iolaus shook his head. "No...I'll be...fine....go on...."

"Go? Uh uh...I'm not leaving you alone...move over, buddy...I'll sleep here, beside you...so you can wake me, if you need anything." Herc lifted Iolaus gently and moved him over toward the wall. Iolaus gasped, almost convulsing...and Herc pulled back alarmed...until he realized Iolaus was trying hard not to giggle, and was losing the battle.

Grinning with relief, Hercules stretched out beside his friend, then rolled, so that he could rest his arm under Iolaus' head, his other hand on Iolaus' chest, to feel him breathe. Relaxing, finally, he let himself drift into sleep. Iolaus listened until Herc's breathing slowed and deepened, then he too, drifted off into a natural sleep.

* * *

It was a couple more days before Iolaus was strong enough to get up and head downstairs. He grew increasingly restless, wanting to be UP! until Hercules finally relented and helped him dress and go down to the kitchen. Aristos looked up from the stew he was making, grinning to see Iolaus up and around, finally. He hastened over, helping Hercules to guide his charge to a chair.

Iolaus chuckled, "Gods...you'd think I was helpless! Really...I'm alright...I can do this on my own."

"Maybe you can," Aristos agreed, "but, it makes us feel better to help...so, just humour us, okay?"

Laughing, Iolaus relented...he could agree without acknowledging he still felt pretty shaky. Trust Aristos to find the way to get him to accept help...the man always could see right through him.

Looking around the kitchen, Iolaus sobered, remembering the last time he'd been there...just before he'd gone out and stupidly climbed up into the half finished loft. He found he missed 'Tica...her warmth and laughter...even now, knowing it had all been a mask...he remembered the good, and wished it could all have been different. She'd been a pretty child, and her warmth had seemed so real.

He looked up at Aristos who had been watching him, guessing at his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Iolaus...I didn't realize...."

Iolaus waved a hand, rejecting the apology...there was no need for it. "No, Aristos...I'm sorry...I know how much you loved her...how much it must hurt....She was....special." Iolaus sighed. "Remember her laughter," he said finally, "I know I will...."

Aristos nodded tightly, grateful for the understanding...and the forgiveness. Even if Iolaus didn't blame him, he blamed himself. Probably always would.

Herc had poured out three mugs of lemonade, and handed them around. Iolaus paused a moment...they didn't know...didn't know she had brought him lemonade in the loft...nor did they need to know. Smiling sadly, he took a long sip, glad his throat was no longer rough and raw.

They talked quietly then, until the afternoon faded and Aristos dished up the stew, cutting chunks of bread from a loaf still warm from the oven. They laughed at him, when Iolaus practically dived into the bowl. "What?" he mumbled, his mouth full. "I'm hungry!"

* * *

Two days later, Hercules and Iolaus stood over 'Tica's grave. Iolaus had dug out a small flowering plant from the side of the inn the afternoon before, and had planted it on her grave. He didn't really know why it had been important to him to make this gesture, but somehow Iolaus wanted her to know that he was sorry she had died, that he held no blame in his heart for what she had done to him. He could even understand, in a strange way, why she had done it, because, he knew how easy it was to love Hercules...and he was inexpressibly sad that what she had believed to be love had only been a painful illusion. It wasn't a gesture of forgiveness...there was nothing to forgive...she had been sick, poor kid, driven by the demons in her mind, and had had no real understanding of what she had done.

Iolaus looked up at Hercules, and again saw the stark look in Herc's eyes that he had seen when he'd first begun to recover. "Do you want to talk about it?" Iolaus asked his friend quietly.

Hercules started, as if he had been far away. "'Talk about it'?" he repeated, not sure what Iolaus meant.

Iolaus sighed a little as he gazed into his friend's eyes. "Herc...something's been...eating at you...haunting you. I see it in your eyes sometimes when you look at me...and I saw it again now, when you were looking at her grave. You're blaming yourself for what happened, aren't you?"

Hercules looked away, and then he nodded. "Yes, I do blame myself...you almost died Iolaus, because I couldn't deal with...her attraction to me. If I had, she wouldn't have tried to murder you...if you had died, because of my cowardice...my unwillingness to face a little embarrassment...gods, Iolaus...." his voice cracked.

Iolaus placed a comforting hand on his friend's arm, "Herc...you didn't know...."

But, Hercules cut him off, as he looked back down into his friend's eyes, his anger and frustration with himself vibrating in his voice, "Iolaus, how often have you told me that I need to learn how to deal with women who want something I can't give them? But, I don't know how. I never imagined something like this could ever happen...and it terrifies me to think that it could happen again. I don't know how to tell when a woman is just flirting, and it's harmless...or when it's more serious, and someone could be hurt. I..." Hercules paused, lifted his hands in an almost helpless gesture, "Help me, Iolaus...teach me how to handle...." but, his voice died away, words failing him.

Iolaus almost chuckled, almost teased Hercules about actually asking him for advice on how to handle his love life...but, the lost look, and the very real fear, in his partner's eyes stopped the words in his throat. He looked away, considering how to answer, how to help his friend. After a long moment, he looked back, nodding.

"Okay, Herc...but, first of all, stop beating yourself up...part of your difficulty lies in your unwillingness to hurt anyone...specifically, in situations like this, women who care about you, and might well be vulnerable. It's not a bad thing to not want to hurt them...but, Herc, you're learning that not letting them know how you feel can confuse them...and they can hurt themselves with illusions of a future that will never be. And, not knowing how to handle situations like that isn't something to be ashamed of...you're not omnipotent. It takes experience, but you've never allowed yourself the kind of casual relationships which might have taught you how to be more comfortable with these situations...because you can't...you're not the kind of guy to have casual flirtations or one night stands."

Iolaus studied Hercules for a moment before continuing, to be sure his friend was hearing him...not blocking the message with his shield of self recrimination and well developed capacity for self blame. He also knew this kind of conversation was intensely difficult for Hercules...he was a very private man, most particularly about personal relationships. Herc nodded at him...he'd understood the question in Iolaus' eyes, and was signaling he accepted what Iolaus had told him so far.

Iolaus nodded and continued. "Alright. The first thing is to recognize what kind of situation you're in. There are the ones who enjoy flirting, you know, the 'how're you doing, big guy' or 'aren't you the handsome one' lines, with the confident, come-hither looks. With them, it's just for fun...and you can smile, flirt back or blush, like you usually do, and it's okay...if you're interested, fine...if you're not, it's also fine." Iolaus couldn't repress a grin when he saw the blush creep up on Herc's cheeks...and Hercules, knowing he was reacting completely in character, had to laugh a little at himself.

Encouraged, Iolaus went on, "Then, there are the ones who are 'hero-struck'...women who look at you with a kind of awe in their eyes, who blush when you smile at them and get all confused...or, who want to be seen with you because it makes them feel important. They're caught up with themselves, and they don't see you as a real person. They'll only want to talk about how brave and wonderful you are. With them, you just thank them for whatever compliment they've paid you, and move on."

"Then, there are the women who are ambitious and want to use you to achieve something...maybe they think you can introduce them to important people, or even the gods...or maybe they want to entice you into helping them get something...they're not always easy to spot at first, because they can be good at appearing sincere...but, eventually, their singleminded focus on wanting something that only you can do for them, or give them, will become evident. With them, it's important to be clear that you're not open to being manipulated...and, then, it's sometimes a good idea to get out of town."

When Hercules looked up, expecting to see that Iolaus was teasing him, he was surprised at the serious look on his buddy's face. Iolaus understood the surprise in his eyes, and said, "I mean it, Herc, women like that can be dangerous...might get vindictive when you refuse them...and they sometimes have the power to cause real problems."

Iolaus sighed a bit, as he tried to come up with other examples of the kinds of situations that Herc needed to be aware of, recognize. "There are the women who will develop a 'crush' on you." He did look up then, with a smile. "You're a nice guy, Herc...and a man women will always find physically attractive... you're the classic 'tall, dark and handsome' type. You're kind, gentle, thoughtful...and women find those traits very appealing. You're also strong and courageous, someone they know would never hurt them, but who could always protect them. These women will really believe that they love you...their feelings can be very acute. But, it's still about them...how you make them feel...it isn't real love...they're in love with the image of who they think you are, not with the real man."

Iolaus sighed. "But, they can be hurt...sometimes they're young, and innocent, and don't really understand yet what real love feels like. With them, it's important to be kind, but to let them know that, while you don't want to hurt them, they need to understand that what you feel is friendship." Iolaus looked up, "You never tell them that what they feel isn't love, because they won't believe you...and they'll just feel you're being patronizing. You can tell them you're honoured by their affection, if it's true...but don't ever lie to them...women almost always know when you're lying. They can read expressions, and gestures, and tones of the voice, looks in the eyes, better than men can...it's really very hard to deceive a woman...unless she wants to be deceived."

"Then, there are the women who are desperate...and it could be for any number of reasons. They might be afraid of being alone, they might have an unhealthy need for love...they're the ones who cling to you, who need constant reassurance, who often won't take 'no' for an answer the first time you say it. They'll promise to do anything for you, be the kind of woman you want them to be. You have to walk away from these women...and it can be hard, because you can feel sorry for them, not want to hurt them...but, you need to be clear that you are not interested."

Iolaus shrugged, and he looked up to the horizon. "They're all different, Herc, and you deal with 'em differently. Sometimes you can let 'em down easy, other times you have to come straight out and say 'no'. Sometimes you have to say it several times, too. And if all else fails? You run away ..."

Hercules sighed. He always felt uncomfortable dealing with those kinds of situations. But...after all this...after what had happened...he knew it was time he learned _how_, instead of always putting things off in the hope that they'd work out in the end. With 'Tica, his reluctance to dispel the wrong impression had nearly cost his best friend his life...and that was a price neither of them could afford. A price he would _never_ want to pay. It was just ...

"But, what if they're none of those things?" he asked worriedly, staring at the freshly turned grave with a sense of haunted guilt. "'Tica really thought she loved me. What if it _is_ the real thing? What if...?"

"Herc," Iolaus interrupted firmly. "You never _know_. Not for certain. You have to do what your heart tells you. Be honest. If they really love you...and know that you can't love them back? They'll let you walk away."

Hercules looked down at his partner, hearing a quiet echo of regret behind his words. "That ever happen to you?" he asked, keeping his own voice soft.

Iolaus gave him a thoughtful look...and then his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Once or twice," his friend admitted with a small shrug. "Listen...this business with 'Tica ... she didn't love you. She didn't know what love _is_. All she had was a fantasy. One in which you fitted...and I didn't. It's sad," he said, "She was so beautiful...so bright and warm, always laughing...sad that she was sick... living within illusions of madness...."

Hercules laid a hand on Iolaus' shoulder, marveling at his friend's capacity for compassion...the girl had very nearly killed him.

Iolaus looked up at his friend. "It wasn't her fault, Herc...she didn't really understand what she was doing...it  
wasn't _anyone's_ fault...."

Hercules studied Iolaus, understanding that his friend was absolving him of blame, with the same compassion he had shown for 'Tica. Hercules nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. He could accept absolution, provided he _did_ learn from this experience...and confronted such situations with women in the future, instead of ignoring what was happening, because of embarrassment, or because he didn't know how. He _would_ learn how...and, he knew Iolaus would help him. "Thanks Iolaus," he said quietly, and Iolaus understood that he wasn't just thanking him for the lessons on how to handle women.

Hercules looked at the grave a last time, then sighed as he looked up to the horizon. "I guess it's time we were going...."

"Yeah," Iolaus hitched his ragged pack over his shoulder, and they turned away. Aristos was waiting for them at the front of the Inn. He hugged them both, sorry to see them go. Iolaus patted him a last time on the back, and then he and Hercules turned, and headed out of town, east, back toward Olympia, and then across the mountains to Corinth...back toward happier memories...and then on to whatever life might have in store for them, knowing that whatever it was, good or bad, they would face it together.

Finis


End file.
